The Arrangement
by puppygurl.98
Summary: Years ago, Melinda W. prophesied the Charmed Ones. Before that, her mother Charlotte made a deal to create an even more powerful generation than them with an all male coven. Today, the deal comes to life. AU-Charmed/Cov.
1. The Two Melindas

The Two Melindas

* * *

Piper Halliwell paced the floors of her home angrily, growling and blowing up vases occasionally as her anger grew uncontrollable. She seemed inconsolable, even her sisters, who seemed just as angry, couldn't stop her this time. While Leo and the aunts knew what was going on, the latest generation of Halliwells and Matthews, practicing the out of sight/out of mind strategy, hadn't a clue.

"It's probably your fault," came a deep voice from within the attic. "You burned the bottom of her favorite pan to a crisp on Tuesday!" Wyatt whispered to his brother angrily as they all cringed, having overheard the explosion of yet another vase.

"No, it's _you!_ She got over that after I conjured up a new one," Chris said smugly before whispering back conspiratorially. "Mom probably knows about that girl you had in your room last night!"

"Would both of you, please, _please _shut up? I'm getting a migraine from your squabbling."

"Come on, Pru. You know it wasn't anything you did—right?" Melinda asked her cousin slowly, cautiously looking the girl over as though the guilt from her previous troubles would have been visible on her face.

Pru just scoffed and glanced at the weary girl that was just two minutes older than herself, yet looked so much younger. "Don't worry, Min-Min, _you're_ not in trouble. You're the perfect child, exactly what all the _Charmed Ones _could ask for!"

Melinda flinched back from her Aunt Phoebe's eldest daughter, looking hurt and stung.

"Hey! Don't be a jerk to Melinda just 'cause you're in deep shit, Pru—it's not cool." Patrick told his younger cousin, his twin brother Henry chuckling beside him. "She doesn't deserve the heat; she was just trying to be nice, yeah?"

"Whatever," Pru spat viciously, glaring at her cousins. "We all know that when they finally come up here, there are only three people that could possibly be called out, and she's not one of them."

Wyatt and Chris watched the fight with mild interest, knowing if things got nasty they'd have to intervene before the aunts and their mother got involved. The room's other occupants stayed quiet, hoping against all hope to not be incriminated.

"Oh, who's that, then?" Melinda's anger crackled, taking the better of her forcibly calm nature. The twins took a step back and away from her, knowing it would be hard to orb out before she blew something up—which was never a pleasant experience to undergo.

"Me, Henry, or Wyatt."

Melinda glanced around at the other people in the room; many were left out of Pru's group of supposed troublemakers—her brother Chris, Henry's brother Pat, Phoebe's other daughter Penny, and herself. Out of the seven kids, she knew Chris would always get off scotch-free for whatever he did. She knew it was because their family owed him deeply for risking his life, and losing his love, to return to the past and save Wyatt, even if he didn't remember it; he and the others simply believed their mother had middle child syndrome. Henry's brother Patrick was usually the mediator in fights, not the starter. Penny was only fifteen, and there's not much that a fifteen-year-old could do that would aggravate their mothers so, especially since she didn't even act fifteen.

Melinda knew this from just having experienced the particular age not too long ago, being the mere seventeen and more-than-three-quarters years old as she prided herself to be. She was the youngest in her family, but didn't often feel like the baby with all the responsibilities she held. Wyatt was twenty-three and the head of the newest generation, also being the leader of all things powerful. Their brother Chris was just two years younger than him, but still bossed Melinda around like a hypocrite after chewing out Wyatt for doing the same to him. She loved her brothers dearly, and knew they loved her as well. They just showed it in a different way than she did, like by being overly and obnoxiously protective.

She, like her brothers, received her powers at birth, and often had a difficult time controlling them. As a child, when her powers would act up and cause odd or strange and inexplicable occurrences that fluctuated with her emotions, they were the ones who suggested homeschooling or Magic School to their parents. Melinda did both so she could have a degree in the real world, even with no humanly social standing.

When she got to her teens and took to sunbathing to increase her color, as was the trend, her brothers were the ones that scared away all the cute neighbor boys that would flirt with her. That's why she was so freaking pale; they hardly let her outside anymore, especially after her powers' most recent traits of going haywire too often for anyone's liking.

She was to be handled was absolute caution at all times, liking a ticking time bomb—something that never failed to infuriate her. And yet, despite her lack of control and easily swaying emotions, she still wasn't considered a troublemaker. The irony in her life never ceased to amaze her.

**.**

Paige, being the most even-tempered and friendly of the three aunts, was chosen to head up to the attic. She was to go to where all the kids were hiding out, and nab the one that Piper and her sisters were currently needing to see.

The Charmed Ones were having a bit of a difficult time with their latest notice from the Elders—tackling it wasn't going as well as planned, and not for the first time, it was a family matter. The three sisters sent away their husbands, claiming it was a private matter, for women only. They hadn't taken it very well, but had dispatched nonetheless. Now all Paige had to do was send away the others, too—except, of course, for the one.

"Knock, knock," Paige peeped her currently black colored head of hair in through the door and winked at her sons, sending them a smile that had melted numerous hearts. "Hey, boyos," she greeted, "Why so stressed?"

"C'mon, Aunt Paige. Don't mess with us. Who's all the racket about?" Pru asked bluntly, taking the reins of the conversation and sending her mild-mannered aunt into a fit of frowns.

Beside her, Melinda crossed her arms over her chest, looking worried and interested and anxious all at once. A crease had formed between her brows as she watched her aunt, whose odd behavior didn't quite fit with all the noise coming from below the attic.

"What, no pleasantries?" Paige giggled and smiled, before abruptly turning quite serious. "Sorry, y'all ... But could you head out? The men are down at Grandpa's apartment right now; orb over and join them."

"You mean it's not about us?"

"Nope. Not about you at all, Henry," his mother responded, smiling at her sons, nieces, and nephews warmly before spinning on her heel and stepping into the hallway that led back down the stairs.

"Oh ... Okay," Wyatt stated, obviously startled. This wasn't the normal procedure when dealing with the aunts and his mother's audible wrath. He turned to his relatives and shrugged uncertainly when they looked to him for answers. He didn't know anymore than they did. "C'mon, Melinda. I'll orb you over with me," Wyatt called to his younger sibling, knowing her orbing was usually out of wack, either splitting her into pieces that had to be healed back together, or sending her somewhere she hadn't wanted to go.

"_One_ time!" she exclaimed angrily, throwing her hands in the air as she looked at her brother. "I mess up one time, and you act like I can't do it right anymore."

He smiled at his youngest sibling and ruffled her hair lovingly. Both of them knew he was only being cautious with her safety, despite acting seemingly bemused.

Just as she was about to take hold of her eldest brother's hand and allow him to orb her over to their favorite—and only—grandfather's apartment, Paige casually called from the hallway, "Actually, Melinda, why don't you stick around? We'd like to have a chat downstairs, if you don't mind."

Everyone in the room stopped at her words, startled into hesitation.

The next generation of Halliwell and Matthew children alike knew what _chatting_ meant to the aunts: bad news and plenty of yelling, every time. Usually, their _chats_ were began centered around how Wyatt had stayed out too long, how Pru got detention, or how Henry was seen using magic publicly, and all ended with the particular victim receiving an unpleasant punishment. But never, not even one, were the chats about _Melinda_.

Why was she the one in trouble? Melinda never did anything wrong—all the Charmed Ones' children knew that and simply understood it, taking it as fact; only her power was slightly defective and flawed, never her. When the time came for some erroneous act, the petite brunette girl either made the right decision or just stayed the hell out of it.

"Okay," Melinda gulped and looked up at her family once, searching for some reassuring face to tell her it was all a joke or a ruse, but she received neither from anyone. Wyatt gave her a comforting smile that seemed a bit pitying, and Pru smirked at her, and then they were gone.

She followed her Aunt Paige down the stairs as she heard the familiar magical tinkle of bells, signifying that a large group of people had all orbed together at once. Melinda was now alone, save for the aunts and her mother. No one else was in the house; no one would be able to stop the fury that would, without a doubt, be relinquished upon her momentarily.

She was in deep, deep trouble—there was not denying that.

"Hi, baby," her mother said, gesturing to the couch across from the one she herself sat on. "You wanna sit down?"

Melinda glanced at her mother, giving the woman an unbelieving stare as Piper smiled back at her sweetly. What had just happened to the woman that exploded those vases in the halls with just her mind and a flick of her wrist? Her mother's usual terse attitude was nowhere to be found, instead leaving something far worse behind: Piper the pitying bad news bearer.

It always happened like that. Piper was the least controlled but most maternal, and eldest, so she delivered whatever needed to be said swiftly and cleaned up the mess she left. Aunt Phoebe, being the empath, was the comforter. Aunt Paige was the youngest, and always had the coolest temperament. She knew everyone's secrets, because they could always confide in her knowing she wouldn't tell and wouldn't ruin the house, like her two sisters would if they were told something instead; Phoebe wasn't known for her mouth, except that it was quite large and was never closed to gossip, while Piper often broke things in a fit of anger.

The last was a trait Melinda herself inherited, not that she exactly prided herself upon her lack of power control.

"No, I think I'd like to stand, actually."

All three women looked at her strangely, as though she somehow knew what was going on, but Phoebe broke the spell quick enough. She smiled at her eldest niece, the small fact of her birth order more prominent than the girl had known before.

"Okay. Do you remember Melinda—Melinda Warren?"

"Of course, how could I forget the prophesier of the Charmed Ones?" the young, almost-eighteen girl recited perfectly, remembering her lessons from the Book of Shadows and conversations with her mother about the same topic. The woman was her namesake, something that she would never be able to forget.

"What about her mother, then? Charlotte?"

"I know you went back to save her. And Mom helped her give birth to Melinda. She later died while Melinda was young, but her death and experience with you three only enabled her daughter to make the prophecy in the first place."

The three elder witches nodded at the story, Paige's more enthusiastic than the others. The old tales of their demon-hunting days were good and fun, but saving innocents of their own blood warmed her heart the most.

"In her town," Phoebe began, telling her niece something she wasn't familiar with, "There were several other covens, one of which was fully male."

Melinda's eyebrows shot up. Fully male? She'd never even heard of that before.

"Yes, it's quite odd to us, isn't it? We're all female, but look now? Wyatt, Chris, Henry, and Pat—it's not just us women, and it never has been." Piper nodded. "In her time, Charlotte wanted to ensure the survival of Melinda and her children, who she knew would later be the Charmed Ones. She knew our magic would grow progressively, but was unsure about our children—."

"And our children's children," Phoebe tacked on, sounding rather reluctant. Piper shot her a glare, which went unnoticed by her daughter.

Melinda ignored her aunt's words for the time being, more focused on Charlotte. "How'd she do that?"

Paige spoke up for the first time. "The male coven was quite powerful, as powerful as we are today. They had left Europe to find a haven from the witch hunts, similar to our own ancestors. Their Power, though, is different than ours. There is only one kind, and they all share it, but it can do anything. When they summon it, their eyes cloud black and It ages the User. Many have reached untimely deaths with sad ends because of the aging." The three sisters frowned, all sharing the same hope; that this aging thing would not affect the course of Melinda's life.

"That's—sad," she commented brokenly, not quite understanding why the male coven was being mentioned.

"Yeah, hon, it is," Paige said, "But that's not all. The Son only gains a portion of his Power at thirteen, receiving the rest at the age of eighteen. It is a painful process when it happens, and after the full power-up, Using the Power is addictive. If used too much, they will age, and ultimately die."

Melinda gasped at the information, realizing that they were limited in using their Power. How sad it would be if she could not use her powers more than once a day! Heck, she used them once an hour, maybe more! It would be awful for anyone to experience this, she thought.

"Melinda Warren actually set the curse that caused the Addiction upon them. They were becoming much too powerful too fast, doing things that humans were never meant to do. They took life and death into their own hands, playing God, and Aging was the only thing to slow down the destruction that surely lied ahead of them."

"I can't believe it came to that," Melinda stated disbelievingly. "Couldn't it be settled in some other way?"

Phoebe smiled at her niece's peaceful ways and patted her hand gently. "I'm sure if she could've done something else, she would have."

"This is all very nice to know, I've never seen them in the Book," The sisters exchanged a well-hidden glance at this, "But—can I ask why? Why are you telling _me_, of all people, this? Especially if it's such a secret that it's not even recorded in the Book."

"Because," Paige continued gently, recalling all the information the Elders and their ancestors had given them on the subject. "Charlotte wanted to ensure the survival of her line. If the power was to strengthen in every generation, what would come of the Charmed Ones' children? There could be no power greater than our own, or so she assumed, so she sought out security. Not only for her line, but for little Melinda as well. Charlotte knew her time would come soon. Melinda would need protection, and she knew of no other witches that held actual power than herself and the male coven."

"So, she went to the male coven for help?" At their nods she reiterated the question that had been on her mind all evening. "What does this have to do with me, again?"

Piper paused and stood, scooting close to her daughter, and wrapping a warm and familial arm around her shoulders. The young girl would need all the support she could get with the fiery trials ahead. "The male coven had a terrible leader at the time, and he thirsted for more power. He promised only to help Melinda in secret, and that there would be no evidence of their deal, minus the arrangement."

Melinda was almost afraid to ask what that meant; a deal between a dying witch and a power-hungry one sounded bad—really, _really_ bad. Both were desperate, and desperate people did dangerous things to get what they wanted. "The arrangement?" she asked cautiously.

Phoebe nodded gravely. "Yes, the leader wished to make his line stronger as well and believed that introducing dual power-genes would help, even if it would take generations. They made a deal—Charlotte and the male coven—that as soon as the Charmed Ones' eldest daughter came of age, she would be married to the eldest Son of the male coven's newest generation."

"Eldest daughter..." Melinda mumbled, going over her family line until she realized that by two minutes, _she_ was the eldest female of her generation. "You mean..."

"You," Piper stated simply, her lower lip trembling as she watched her youngest child tremble in despair. She hugged her daughter tighter to her side before continuing. "You have to get married."

"Yeah! So you can make powerfully awesome babies!" Paige rooted happily, inserting her own two cents, only to be silenced by glares from her sisters.

Apparently the mention of future children didn't help her thought processes, because Melinda wasn't moving. She didn't even look like she was breathing! Just as Piper was about to slap her to see if she was going into shock, her daughter finally reacted.

She blinked. Once, twice. One more time to level it out at three blinks.

And then, Melinda Halliwell, named for her famously powerful ancestor, betrothed to a stranger, fainted without a single word.

* * *

**AN: **I realize this is in the _Covenant_ section, but it's mostly _Charmed_-inspired. The Sons will show up in the next two chapters, and then after that it will be mostly _Covenant_ characters, everything you'll recognize. It's AU to both sections, and as I began this before watching the entire _Charmed_ series, not all facts match up with the show. If you aren't an avid watcher of the show, don't worry—I'll make sure everything you need to know about it is included. Any questions, PM me!


	2. Kleenex

Kleenex

**

* * *

**

Voices streamed in and out of little Melinda's consciousness, not quite making sense. They seemed to be flitting in and out of her hearing, but she couldn't be sure. Her head felt groggy, and her brain seemed sluggish, slow at processing what she was hearing.

"... See? Like I said ..."—the eldest Halliwell girl recognized her mother's voice in all the chaos. The woman sounded stressed, which wasn't anything new.

"No, that doesn't make sense, Piper ..."—that was surely her father. Not many could speak to Piper Halliwell in that way without being blasted into bits by her fists, or at least threatened to be. She definitely had a temper.

"—She has to do it ..."—Aunt Phoebe was there too, then.

"... Lose everything, us and them ..."—Uncle Coop, if she had heard right; he sounded much more serious than his usual playful, light-hearted self.

"Who... Those little—!"—that was Pru, always being the hotheaded witch, ready to start a fight and kick some butt.

"Shh!"—she couldn't decide who that was, but was assuming because of the pitch it was either her mother or little Penny; however, she couldn't be positive.

Melinda listened to the voices carefully, picking out each one individually to relax herself before she stirred.

If she ever awoke in a hostile environment, her father had warned her to check out her surroundings before moving around at all, ensuring her safety without being discovered. And although her house didn't seem to be a hostile environment (most of the time), she decided that she should probably find out what was going on before she 'woke up'.

She could tell that her mother and father were there, clearly arguing about something in hushed tones. Nearby, Uncle Coop seemed to be consoling Phoebe by telling her everything would be okay in the end. Uncle Henry was telling Paige to make her sons stop chasing each other around the kitchen—despite the fact that they were almost nineteen. Pru and Penny were gossiping about how cute which boys were at this year's VMA's.

That left two people over; two people that were unaccounted for out of everyone in their _entire_ family—minus Billie, her adopted daughter, and Grandpa, _and _all of her dead, ghostly ancestors that weren't present.

Without moving, Melinda's brain squirmed as it tried to process the new information, leaving her with only one option to where the two extra people were.

Somehow, probably by the way she was laying, she knew she was definitely on a couch. Melinda also knew her feet were being held in someone's lap, and her head in someone else's, and neither people were speaking. These were the two people that had been missing, she realized.

Almost by some internal familial sense, she could tell it was Wyatt whose lap her head was in; he was stroking her hair softly with his big hands, occasionally stooping over to press a kiss in her hair. He'd always been that affectionate toward his younger sister, though. All women, really. Wyatt was a touchy/feely kinda guy, except when it came to talking about his emotions—he was just a regular guy, after all, underneath all that magic.

Similarly, Chris wasn't much of a talker when it came to feelings and girls. Sure, he could sweet talk them into a date, but after that? Not so much. He was a chatterbox at home, always, and especially with his mother or when it came to the Book. Melinda's feet would be placed in his lap right now, explaining the tapping and pulling sensation she felt through her sock as he pricked at a loose string.

Chris was never quiet for more than a few minutes at the Manor; so why wasn't he talking now? Melinda couldn't help but wonder what had happened that was such a huge deal, that had caused all this mess—silence on her brothers' end, and noise from everyone else. She'd even heard her mother mention Billie's name while she lay prone on the couch.

If things were bad enough to get the busy demon-hunter involved, things were _very _bad indeed.

She tried to remember falling asleep, but couldn't. In fact, she had no memories of ever laying on the couch, let alone sitting on it. _Oh, no,_ she thought, realizing she had probably fallen asleep in the attic and been orbed down by her brothers.

As if to reinforce her nap theory, she recalled an awful dream about those poor little boys who aged twice as fast in the south-eastern part of their country. But the image seemed distorted, as though it wasn't quite correct. Instead of being little, these boys were men at the age of nineteen or twenty! There were four in total and their eyes were a startling shade of black—caused by their Power, she knew, although she wasn't sure how she knew.

The stories she thought up for them felt so real, almost as if her mother and the aunts had told them to her and she dreamt them verbatim, causing them to come to life behind her eyelids.

Wait a minute—hadn't the aunts called her downstairs that same afternoon? To talk privately, she faintly recalled. Everyone else had even left the house. So when had they come back, and why? It had to be something concerning whatever her mother told her earlier. Except, Melinda couldn't remember anyone coming over, so everyone would've have come after she fell asleep. But why didn't they wake her up? She was by no means a sound sleeper. A pin could prick the floor boards and she would awake, startled.

Startled—she pondered over the word for a moment, still trying to regain her bearings.

For whatever reason, Melinda felt _startled_. Something happened when she fell asleep, perhaps. Hold on—she hadn't fallen asleep at all, she realized; she had fainted, Melinda remembered more clearly now.

She had a feeling it had to do with her mother saying something about marrying someone she'd never met and Paige bringing up babies.

Holy _shit!_

Melinda's mind scrambled as she shot upright on the couch, in a sitting position so quickly it had all her other relatives in a defensive crouch, besides the two beside her.

That wasn't a dream, at all! She was getting married! Melinda was _seventeen! _Almost eighteen, but still. _Ohmygod!_

She had to be married to this person by her eighteenth birthday; that wasn't even a month away!

She didn't realize she was gasping for air frantically, panting, with tears streaming down her cheeks, until Chris wiped one away and Wyatt soothed her slightly by rubbing her back gently with his big, warm hands. "It's okay, Min-Min. We're all here for you, no worries."

"No worries?" Melinda choked out, snapping at her brother for the first time, ever. "_No worries? _How could I _not_ worry?"

She stood from the couch, tipping slightly until her dad caught her easily, take her small weight in stride. She pointed a heavy, weighted finger at her mother and the aunts, ready to tear into them. "And _you. _You three—you kept this from me! How could you not tell me this? Didn't I _deserve _to know?"

Tears were flying freely down her face, her pain flying just as quickly past agony and despair to something so terrible that it wasn't yet named. When Melinda received no answer, she growled angrily and sprung forward, ready to launch herself at the three sisters that had meant the world to her, yet she had obviously meant nothing to them.

Leo held her back, kicking and screaming, before Wyatt's stronger arms took over and held her close, letting her pain pour out until she had nothing left to give and fell limp in his grip.

Piper fell to her knees before her daughter. "I'm _so _sorry, I hate this just as much as you do ..."

"No, you _don't_. You got a choice—you got Dad. What do I get? I get some freak that I've never even met!"

"Melinda. Listen to yourself, Honey. He won't be that bad. It's not like we didn't do everything in our power to stop this; ever since we found out, _yesterday_, the three of us have been working over time with the Elders, but the pact made between Charlotte and the male coven cannot be reversed." Phoebe spoke softly, shielded in Coop's strong arms while their tiny niece recovered.

"What do you mean, _pact?_ Are there side-effects to this deal?"

Paige finally spoke up, helping Piper to her feet as the trio cried helplessly. "Yes, there are repercussions on both sides, I guess. We lose the ability to create any more heirs to our line, and no more powers."

"What about them?"

"Death, loss of powers—I don't know for sure, really, but it would affect them as a whole, too."

The small girl curled up in her brother's safe arms, one of her hands gripping tightly on Chris's from across the couch. Melinda knew she could never do that to her family. The Halliwell line was everything to the aunts, _everything_. With its loss, and that of the powers too, no one would ever be happy again.

She knew what she had to do, even before they told her. Melinda would do anything for her family, even if it meant giving up on her own happiness.

She held her tear-streaked head up, and looked each family member in the eye to show that she was ready to make this choice. Her mother and aunts' red-rimmed eyes matched her own, and the pink noses they were sporting were probably quite similar to hers. Melinda didn't want her family to think of this as some sort of sacrifice; it wasn't like Chris, where he gave up _everything._

No matter what, she would always have a loving family, and knowing that would simply have to get her through the day.

"When do we meet him?"

**.**

Melinda spent the remainder of the week that she had until her _betrothed _arrived alone, in her bedroom. She would have time for family later, but time alone? That's a now or never type of thing within the Halliwell manor.

Although the aunts and their families had long since moved out, Paige orbed in like crazy, as did Henry Jr. and Pat and while Henry the senior could not as regularly, he got his sons or wife to bring him over in a jiffy whenever he wished. Phoebe and Uncle Coop were the same—he could just use his ring to come pop over, as could Penny, his youngest, since she had inherited her parents' more Cupid half. Even though Penny's elder sister Pru couldn't orb, she came over just as often as the others, driving if she couldn't get ahold of an orbing relative. Neither Billie nor Peyton, her adopted daughter, had yet had a chance to orb in, as they were both quite busy.

All in all, time to oneself was rare, especially with all three of Leo and Piper's children still living at home, not including Peyton though she often came to stay while Billie was on a hunt. It was hard to leave the family behind; Wyatt and Chris had both tried, taking off for long periods of time or applying to schools far away, but something always brought them back.

Everyone thought it was just the family, but Melinda knew better.

It was the house. The house itself attracted them to the area, the magical hot-spot it was built upon making it a wonderful, and sometimes terrible place to live in. Demon attacks were rare, and often worked like a clock. You would see a demon once a month, anymore meant they were hired-hands and more would be coming soon that would need to be taken care of quickly. It was all simple really, even more so since not one of them couldn't defend themselves.

It would be surprising if magical beings didn't pop in to see it from time to time; once one visited the Halliwell manor it was difficult to almost impossible not to go back. Not only did the power source pull one in like bees to honey, but it was like every time one went, the pull got ever stronger.

Over the years, leaving the manor for long periods of time became difficult for anyone. It was like a magical addiction; kind of like those guys in Massachusetts.

_Dammit!_ Melinda swore and froze her bedroom before causing the balled-up tissue in her hand to explode. After she un-froze time, the little pieces flitted down into another pile of what appeared to be white dust. The white piles covered her room, almost every surface. Practicing her powers kept her thoughts of _him _at bay, and whenever he happened to pop again, bye-bye Kleenex.

Not only was it a great way to handle her internal need to make things explode at her tiniest bit of anger, but it also helped keep her powers somewhat under control. Melinda found that the more she used her powers—not only her molecular ones, but also her father's, too—the more she could contain them.

Eventually, they would quit acting up, or so she hoped.

Melinda did not practice her powers publicly though, instead letting the others think she was wallowing in bed or something. After all, if she orbed in and out of rooms like crazy, it would drive her mother nuts! Plus, they would know what she was doing—trying to distract herself by immersing into her uncooperative powers.

Melinda didn't want anyone to feel sorry for her; it would just cause more problems. Besides, she didn't need that; the extra guilt. That she was only doing this for them, and they felt awful, which caused her to feel bad, because she_ was _only doing it for them. Why else would she marry a stranger, if not for her family? She'd never do it for just her own survival. She was even doing it, just a little bit, for him—the man.

She had no reason to condemn a man she'd never met, how judging would _that_ be? Just horrible.

Melinda might as well see if they're anyway compatible before deciding if it was a lost cause. It wasn't fair to either of them to write it off at the get-go, they both deserved a chance and that she was willing to give.

Tiny bells went off in her head, like how her brothers had once explained their whitelighter instincts sounded.

It was as though a charge were calling to her, but since because she was not a whitelighter, it could have been someone that would've been hers, if she hadn't decided against it because of the marriage. The least she could do was postpone it for a while, even if things didn't go quite as planned.

Melinda would later explain the bell-sounds to Aunt Phoebe, who would smile and just take Uncle Coop's hand happily. "It's when someone's thinking of you. Very, _very, _loudly."

Who would be thinking of her loudly,_ now?_ It was only two in the afternoon on a sunny Sunday, and Penny and Pru were messing around downstairs rather violently while Wyatt had orbed their parents out for some Elders' meeting and Chris was with a charge, promising to be back in a moment's notice if she needed them.

Melinda needed them—now.

However, instead of doing what she should have and calling her brothers, Melinda gave up on her tissue-explosions and headed down the stairs. Her steps quickened when she heard something break; it sounded like the sisters were fighting again.

"_Penny!_" Pru was growling at her little sister when Melinda spotted them in the parlor, making a grab for the Cupid-girl. "Get your ass back here!"

The young girl in question hopped over the back of the couch, holding what appeared to be a silk black bra—Pru's, probably. Melinda decided she didn't want to know how it got here and immediately stepped forward, separating the pair when Pru conjured up a small, ruby-red dagger in her hands, obviously preparing to lunge at her little sister with it.

"Pen, stop it. Seriously. Give it back!" Melinda attempted to intervene, pushing the pair apart with her hands. "Just give her the bra back."

"Come get it, witch." the fifteen-year-old taunted the pair, dangling the bra between two fingers mid-air.

"Ooh, you better not have just said that!" Pru made a dive for her youngest sister but she used her damned Cupid powers to fade away just in time. "Get back here, you demon-child!"

Pru screamed as Penny reappeared on top of the china cabinet. She was too short to reach up, and settled for kicking the side of it with enough force to knock it over, breaking all the good china.

Melinda stood away from the mess, mouth gaping as she tried to form words. The two sisters continued on fighting, not noticing how she looked slightly damaged at all the debris. The small brunette knew they could fix all the mess up in a minute, of course, but there was Personal Gain involved, even if she hadn't been the one to knock it over.

She was much too distracted by the rising porcelain-dust clouds and screaming to hear the doorbell ring. Neither did any of the girls hear many knocks pound against the door. Finally, none of them heard the handle give in with a click and the ease of Dark Magic, or the creak as it swung wide.

So, it really shouldn't have been surprising when Pru launched herself at her sister, screaming that she would kill her, and Penny started running away while screeching about love, and how it's all you need, and Melinda clenched her fists, getting ready to blow some _serious _shit up, and someone—or, more accurately, _four_ someones— chuckled, startling the girls into frightened silence.

The three girls froze at the small, completely unassuming sound. It was then that they realized they were alone in the house, open to demon attack, and none of them could see with all the rising clouds of broken dish-dust.

Unfortunately, it was not until much later that Melinda realized that it was exactly one week since the day she found out about her impending marriage, and her time was up—her fiancé would be arriving any time now.

So, as the three girls pondered upon how to fight back against their home's intruders, they didn't realize the four men weren't intruders at all, but instead the male coven's heirs.


	3. Sweethearts

Sweethearts

**

* * *

**

Dust and smoke filled the air, but she was able to hear four faint coughs and chuckles from the foyer. By ear, she knew they did not belong to her family, and any neighbors the Halliwells had would have announced themselves. Honestly, no one just walks into another's house, especially these days. Besides, the Halliwells weren't known to leave their door open for others; they were a secretive family with lots to hide.

And those secrets—well, four of them had just stepped through the door. The intruders were definitely demons, or so Melinda and the other two girls thought.

With the inability to see correctly and aim, Melinda couldn't freeze the people at the front entrance, so she searched out her cousins. Without a word, she crept through the manor, only stopping at the sight of the two girls huddled in the corner, no longer attempting to kill each other.

Penny sat next to older sister Pru, whose arms appeared to be wrapped so tightly around her, she could've sworn that her little cousin must be dead by now, or at least unable to breathe. "Pen, head to the attic and get the stones. I'm gonna have Pru help me clear the air in here then I'll freeze them while you put the stones down. There are four in the entrance hall."

Each of the girls nodded and Penny faded using the Cupid's power to fetch the stones. Suddenly, the air cleared of all pollution as though it were being sucked with a vacuum into a black hole. Pru glanced at her cousin, but neither had cleared the dust and smoke. Their eyes hardened; the demons were definitely ready to play some ball.

Melinda flung her hands out towards the four positively male figures that loitered in the hall, each with startling and eerie black eyes.

"They didn't freeze! Fuck!" Pru swore loudly, alerting the demons to their presence.

They looked slightly shocked at the girl's words, and even more shocked at her next ones:

"What kind of demons are these?" she exclaimed, slightly worried as she glanced back and forth between a very stone-coldly shocked Melinda and the quickly advancing group that while being attractive, also managed to look quite menacing.

The four continued to advance, eyes still black as night, but Melinda tried again, accidentally curling her fingers slightly and blowing up a vase that had been sitting on the table as they passed by. Its explosion was barely acknowledged as the four raised their hands, gathering some form of glowing, electric energy ball that was bigger than she had ever seen before. The energy balls certainly didn't look like the ones in the book, she thought, as she froze each ball in place before pulling Pru down behind the couch.

"Min-Min! Can't you like, oh, I don't know, _blow them up?_" Pru asked, extremely aggravated as the balls un-froze and hit the wall above their heads.

"I can't concentrate, Pru! It's not as easy as it looks. Besides, how would we be able to interrogate them if they're _dead?_"

Though they didn't realize it at the time, the group of males could overhear their conversation quite well and were slightly disturbed upon finding out the two teen girls wished to kill them. They attacked the girls in kind, fighting to the death.

Pru peeked up over the couch as Melinda was speaking, and at the exact time the brunette said the word dead, the blond one in the group snarled and sent another energy ball flying towards towards her head.

The blow was low, and if she hadn't been able to duck in time, Pru was sure she would've died on contact. She growled low in her throat and flipped over the back of the couch, meeting him in the middle of the room, using the enhanced fighting skills she inherited from her mother to knock him out in ten seconds flat.

Pru was caught from behind as Melinda watched; soon, she was up and over the couch, too, joining in on the fight. She ran to help her cousin, but two strong arms wrapped around her middle, locking her arms to her sides as she was lifted from the ground. Melinda kicked her legs back until her blows made purchase on the sensitive area between his legs.

In shock, the man loosened his hold on her upper body and as he slipped to the ground she elbowed his nose, hearing a crack that signified a break.

Two men down, she counted as Pru breathed heavily, causing another body to fall. She mentally thanked her quick-thinking cousin. The third took on Pru, but she maneuvered him away from Melinda and to the steadily growing pile of bodies.

The fourth came up behind the small brunette but she was too quick for him and used her father's powers to stun him telepathically while landing a blow to his stomach that sent him backwards into the table, his head splitting it with a crack while knocking over the third, also.

"I've got the stones!" Penny said cheerfully, popping into the room again and setting them down while Pru skipped out of the way.

The third man, a tall, cute-looking brunette, was the only one still conscious—that is, until he ran into the wall created by the magical stones and was electrocuted, rendering him unconscious onto the pile.

Pru wiped her hands on her pants. "What a good job we did.." she mumbled happily as she looked down at the pile of unconscious demons she and the two girls had finished off. She was right; it was definitely a job well done, considering there wasn't even a whitelighter or someone over eighteen present.

**.**

One hour later, the three girls were all situated on the couch, watching _The Bodyguard_, a classic romance starring Whitney Houston and Kevin Costner. Penny was curled up on her sisters lap, sound asleep; Pru was nestled into Melinda's side, her legs hanging off the end of the couch. Melinda sat on the opposite end, eyes wide and glued to the screen. She sat indian style, with her legs crossed and a bowl of kettle corn in her lap.

"I still can't believe you eat kettle corn with salt on it. What's the point?"

"It's fucking delicious. That's the point." Melinda murmured, hand halfway to her mouth when she gasped, recalling the words for the current scene. She and Pru whispered the words at the exact same moment: "Never let her out of your sight. Never let your guard down. Never fall in love."

**.**

A tear trickled down Melinda's cheek as the movie credits rolled. She sniffled and wiped her nose, turning to look at her cousin who was in a similar state. "Good movie," Pru whispered breathily before planting a kiss on her sister's cheek and falling asleep, too.

**.**

Unnoticed by the girls, all four of the boys had awoken during the movie, situated in the living room behind the couch in their stone prison. They stayed silent until the brunette's head drooped after the final credits, signifying that all three were asleep now and they could speak freely.

"Shit, man. What the fuck is going on?" Reid whispered angrily, before tossing another piece of rubble into the area outside the stones, which would zap and fry it before tossing it back into their circle so he could throw it again. "These bitches are crazy. I can't believe you agreed to this."

Caleb sighed and tried once more to move the stones out of place by Using, but none would budge. They'd all been trying and failing since the beginning of the movie, becoming more and more drained as time wore on.

In all honesty, he was beginning to think this was less and less a good idea, even if it did save their lives. Without this marriage, their Power would fade, causing in turn their bodies to fade also. He was worried, as a leader, if they would ever escape this house. Maybe he went to the wrong home, he wondered. His mother had simply told him her last name was Halliwell, and that was all.

"Yeah. Me, either," he answered simply, stating a quick summary of all his thoughts since he'd stepped through the front door.

Someone stirred on the couch, and a little blonde head popped over the side to look at them and smile sweetly. The girl couldn't have been more than thirteen, just a kid. It was sick how those women—if they could even be called that, they were probably barely older than her—could involve her in this.

"Hi. I'm Penny. You don't know my name, but I know yours. I betcha didn't know I knew that."

Caleb couldn't help but smile back at the kid, confidence and childish mirth rolling off of her in waves. "How did you know that?"

"I'm a Cupid, duh. I mean seriously, who else wears the ring?" She held her left hand up, showcasing a ruby red ring that glowed brightly. "Isn't it pretty? I can Fade too, but I'm not so good with my Suggestions yet."

"Better watch out, Caleb, this one's crazy ..." Reid muttered.

"Reid, I'm not crazy!" she quickly shot back, surprising them with her knowledge of his name. "You are, for never listening to your heart. How could someone be with so many people but love not one? It's sad, really."

"If it's so sad, why don't you let us out so I _can _love someone?" he countered hastily.

"I can't do that. If Auntie Piper knew that I let four demons run around in her house—_oh_, she'd be so pissed. Plus, you'd kill Melinda. Or try to steal the Book. Do demon-y things that are very, very bad."

"_Demons?_"

"Reid! Shh!"

But it was too late. Soon the other two girls were wide awake and staring back at them. "Penny? What are you doing, babe?" Another blonde one said, looking quite similar to the little one—sisters, Caleb recognized.

"Conversing with the enemy," the little one said simply, as if it covered all the bases. "They didn't really say anything important."

"That's why Pru made these," Pru herself held up four bottles of potions, "They will make them _want _to talk."

"Aww, Mom'd be proud." Penny murmured sarcastically, ruffling Pru's hair affectionately. Apparently, Melinda noted, snobby Penny was making another appearance. In retaliation, Pru pushed her sister off the couch, causing her to land on her back just outside the stones. "Ow!_ Someone_'s pissy today."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I'm not the one who ditched during the entire fight and didn't help! Min-Min and I actually had to kick ass while you messed around in the attic. What _were_ you doing, anyway—we always keep the stones right on the table."

"Enough!" the brunette shouted, separating the squabbling pair. "This isn't helping."

Caleb, Pogue, Reid and Tyler just watched the four interact silently, not wanting to interrupt girl-talk as they had learned so many times from Kate and Sarah not to, because things could end badly and get ugly real quick. The tiny brunette appeared to be the ringleader, probably only a few years younger than they were. The other two were blonde, obviously sisters, but not related to the brunette.

"What kind of demon are you?" Penny asked in the sweetest way possible from her position on the floor beside them, not knowing if asking a demon that was offensive; she had never really been allowed to speak to demons before and was quite interested.

"We're not—." Tyler started, but was cut off.

"Don't lie! These hurt." Pru hefted the potions in her hand again, as if to threaten him, but the clinking of the glass bottles meaning nothing to him.

"Listen," Caleb said, looking at each girl in turn but not quite focusing. "We aren't demons. Pogue, Reid and Tyler came here with me to—."

"Get the book?" Penny offered.

"Steal our powers?" Pru tried.

"Kill the Charmed Ones?" Melinda asked seriously.

"Kidnap Melinda?"

"_What?_" Melinda asked Pru incredulously, thinking her suggestion was completely and utterly ridiculous.

"Well, I figured, with all that's going on ... You know ... I don't know! It seemed logical when I said it!"

"What, were you on drugs? No one would try to kidnap Min-Min!" Penny exclaimed, shocked. "She's got her powers, first of all, then there's Piper, Leo, the Aunts and our mom, Dad, Chris, and _Wyatt _to protect her. I'm sure she'd make it out fine. Besides, there's also that mystery man—"

"Ooh, that sounds sexy," Pru purred while Caleb and the others eavesdropped, curious as to what the little one had meant.

_Mystery man?_ Caleb wondered. They couldn't mean—no ... Not—not _him_. His jaw dropped as he realized he was at the right house after all, and was going to have to marry one of the three lunatics on the couch.

"No! No, it's not!" Melinda defended herself, her arms crossed over her chest. "What about _love_?"

"Love's _so _overrated, Min-Min." Pru announced to the room at large, ignoring the stunned look her sister shot her. They were Cupid's daughters!

"Hey! I take that as offense!"

Pru continued on, seeming peeved that the man had interrupted, "Oh, sorry, Dad, as I was _saying_—."

"_Dad?_"

There, in the doorway to the dining room, stood Coop, arms crossed over his chest and looking quite offended, although somewhat bemused. Pru and Penny raced over to their dad, hugging him as tightly as they could.

"Hi, Daddy," they both chimed to him with smiling faces as he kissed the tops of their heads.

"Now, what have we got here, girls?"

"Well, me and Pru were playing in the living room," Penny started, her father raising an eyebrow at the word _playing_—he out of everyone knew how violent things got when his daughters _played._ "When all of the sudden, four demons with black eyes popped up out of nowhere and started attacking! It was crazy! Min-Min and Pru kicked butt while I got the stones, but—."

"We _aren't_ demons! And we didn't attack. They attacked first," Pogue said defensively, hoping to get the older man to help him out; he seemed the most rational out of all of them.

"Well, they say they aren't demons. You've got to let them go." Coop reached a foot out to move a stone, but Melinda flung her hands at him before he could even touch it.

The four Sons looked at the man that was about to set them free in shock; he was frozen!

"Ooh, he's gonna be _so_ mad when you un-freeze him," claimed Penny.

"Whatever. I'm not sticking around so I can get mauled by giants," Pru stated, nose curling at the four men she claimed were 'demons' as she grabbed the other girls hands at started to leave the room. "Good job, Mins."

"Where are you going?" shouted Reid, but he was answered shortly as the girls all walked into the dining room and hid behind the wall. The only thing left uncovered was a hand, Melinda's hand to be exact, with which she flung towards Coop and he un-froze and moved the stone, releasing the _demons_.

Reid's eyes immediately flashed black and he was about to attack when Coop's ringed hand settled on his shoulder. "Relax. They didn't mean any harm. They're just a group of scared girls. This was what their instincts was telling them to do."

"Hey! I take offense to that."

"Yeah, me too."

"You can't take offense to that, you're not eighteen," Penny spoke up, objecting to being the only girl, in the untechnical sense of the word.

"Yeah, but I'm _about_ to be. So's Min-Min."

As the girls and bickered on, Coop grinned down at his two daughters and niece, simply elated that they were happy.

But the Sons of Ipswich froze as they overheard the girls. Almost _eighteen_? They knew what that meant. One of those two girls was meant to be Caleb's long, lost love that he had to marry before she became of age, lest the Power be lost to them and their heirs forever.

"So ... You always did have a thing for blondes," Pogue joked, evaluating the eldest blonde girl—Pru was her name, he guessed, having picked it up from their conversation—that he thought for sure was the one.

She was pretty, even beautiful maybe, with long, white-blonde straight hair that fell to the middle of her back. There was something about her, possibly the brown biker jacket and heavy mascara, that didn't make her seem as the right choice for Caleb. Himself, maybe. But _Caleb?_ No way, he didn't exactly express interest in that kind of girl.

Pogue knew his brother better than most, knowing what his likes and dislikes were in a girl, too—and a relaxed biker chick that could fight like a badass wasn't on Caleb's wish list.

He wasn't sure who Min-Min was, but she was supposedly also almost eighteen, and as he looked over the girls surrounding Coop, the one that stood out the most was the tiny brunette that was lounging shyly on the back wall, eyes clouded and lost in thought. Her ankles were crossed, and she struck Pogue as a _Sweetheart_ girl—the kind that was smart and quiet, rarely speaking, but when she did it was important to hear; a Sweetheart was someone that loved thoroughly.

Caleb liked Sweethearts.


	4. Two Minutes

Two Minutes

**

* * *

**

"What do you mean, _they attacked him?_"

"Piper, it's _fine_. Trust me—well, trust Coop," Phoebe said, and Piper grumbled, as though Coop was so much less trustworthy than she was. She rolled her eyes. "And they didn't exactly attack _him_; they attacked his friends, too. I guess the guy had friends with him and the girls just freaked out."

"Because that's _so _much better! You don't just freak out by seeing a group of guys!"

"Apparently their Power is quite different from ours. Penny told me she thought he was a demon."

"A demon?" the oldest living Halliwell hesitated, hand over the speaker. "A demon ..." she trailed off, unsure about this whole arrangement, especially if their daughters thought Melinda's husband-to-be was a demon.

"Yes, Piper, a _demon_," Phoebe repeated, feeling as though she was talking to a mentally ill person. "But it's fine now. I'm here, Coop's here, the house is in shambles, as per usual. Everything is completely and utterly normal here."

"Oh, good. That makes me feel _so _much better, Pheebs!"

Phoebe rolled her eyes at her sister, though she couldn't see her.

Piper had called her using Wyatt's cell phone to ask her to pick something up and had received the brunt of her sister's shock at seeing their living room in utter disarray and no one to be found anywhere. Poor Piper. Her daughter just met her future husband and she wasn't there to congratulate her at all or anything, despite the fact that she wouldn't have congratulated her anyway, since she was still denying the fact that the Elders couldn't change or fix this mess at all.

Phoebe—and everyone else in the family besides Piper—knew that even if they could find a way around the arrangement, it wouldn't happen in time for Little Bit's not-so-sweet eighteenth birthday/wedding day, which wasn't too far off the horizon.

"Look, Pipe—I gotta go. I'll see you when you get to the manor, okay?" Without waiting for an answer, Phoebe hung up and massaged her temples. Before long, Coop's big fingers covered her own as he planted a kiss on the tip of her nose. She smiled up at him, reaching up on her tip-toes to kiss him back.

"_Eww ._.. Get a room, guys. No one needs to see all that, especially not your own children," Pru taunted in passing as she led Penny by her pinky to clean up the living room before Piper got home and freaked out too much.

"She's right you know ..." Coop raised a dark eyebrow down at her. "We could."

"I can still hear you!" Pru screeched as she covered her ears. "God! This is disgusting!"

**.**

Blue. Blue for miles.

That's all she could see, as far as she looked. Well, unless she looked to the left, because there were trees and houses there, and she could see part of the Golden Gate Bridge and some skyscrapers, but other than all that—it was beautiful.

The sky was all Melinda needed right now. Its serene majesty would calm her. And she would _be _calm. Breathing in, breathing out. Closing her eyes, opening her eyes, and closing them again. Sighing at the perfection. Yes, the sky was all Melinda _needed _right now, but the outdoorsy smell of grass and trees seeped in, making it all she wanted, too.

Peace, Melinda finally felt at peace; after a week of drowning in a sea of mess and confusion filled with prophecies and nonsense, she had taken a breath and found - get this—air. Yes, to Melinda fresh air was quite rare, as was peace, but she had finally found some and was currently reveling in it, while also enjoying her time of loneliness.

"Are you sleeping? On the _ground? _That's really weird._" She was at peace. _"You're probably laying on dog poop or something disgusting like that._" She was calm._ "I mean, really. Bacteria and shit."

Hell, she was neither. Melinda never was a very good liar.

Without opening her eyes, Melinda unwillingly left her state of meditation and relaxation to answer her cousin's questions. "What do you want, Pru? I'm trying to relax. And we don't have a dog, anyway."

"Oh. Like meditation?" Pru asked, sounding very much like the valley girl she wished she was. She skipped entirely over the fact that Melinda was trying to be alone, that they didn't have a dog, and that grass was actually nice and instead went straight to _bitch _mode. "Inner-center shit?" Insert Melinda's eye roll here, please. And after you do that, shoot Pru in the face. Yes, Melinda would like that very, very much.

"Can I—can I join you?"

Her green eyes shot open immediately and she sat up slowly, facing the cousin she'd always known but never had anything in common with. She pursed her lips and looked at Pru—really _looked_ at Pru—and nodded. The blonde looked like she needed a moment. "Um. Sure," she stated awkwardly. When Pru looked at her for directions, she smiled minutely and continued. "Just lie down and forget everything. Forget that our parents are inside, that school's gonna suck this year, that you and Penny fought, everything. Then just—I don't know, listen."

She lay back down and closed her eyes, taking a steadying breath as Pru settled on the grass beside her. Neither of them spoke, moved, or so much as sighed out of turn for twenty whole minutes. It was nice, and unexpectedly so. Melinda felt more relaxed and calm than she had even during _The Bodyguard. _She thought about absolutely nothing, and felt cleansed.

All she was waiting for now was Pru to break the silence and share what was on her mind—why else would she have come out here? There was a reason for everything, as Aunt Phoebe had always said. Pru, the hyperactive one out of the two of them, was always doing something. She wouldn't have come outside unless it was for a reason, something really important.

When Pru finally spoke up, Melinda had a smirk on her face. She had to restrain herself from screeching that she _knew it_.

"Two minutes, Melinda," Pru said vaguely, sounding urgent and impassioned. "Two minutes changed our entire lives, even before I was _born_."

Melinda's eyes opened and her face contorted in confusion. "Huh? D'you mind expanding on that a bit, just maybe?"

"You're only _two minutes _older than I am," she clarified, her tone almost sad now. "I could have had this fate instead of you. You'd be free to live life with whoever you wanted, fall in love, rejoice in your freedom, and I would be set up with some weirdo with black eyes."

The brunette shook her head, protesting against Pru's awful logic. "But that's not how it happened, Pru—I _am _two minutes older than you. It's just the way things are."

Pru's next words were surprising to Melinda. They had never occurred to her, but judging from the desperation in the blonde's voice, they had occurred to her. "You mean you don't hate me for it?"

"What? No! I mean, yes. I _love _you, and I'll always love you. I promise. No matter what—we're family." Melinda grabbed hold of her cousin's hand and squeezed it. "You're like my sister, Pru. I could never hate you for anything, even if I wanted to."

Pru smiled at her cousin's words and scooted closer to the petite girl, wrapping both arms tightly around her and hugging her with seemingly no option of ever letting go. She was so thankful at her cousin's reassuring tone, despite that she should've been the one reassuring Melinda. This was just the way things were, in their world, whether they liked it or not. It was simply fate—something everyone had to deal with eventually.

So, what—they had been thrown some rather strange curveballs recently. They still had each other, and that was all that mattered to the two teens that were only two minutes apart in age; two minutes apart from switched destinies.

**.**

Caleb couldn't get that tiny brunette girl's face out of his mind.

For some reason, he was more interested by the freckles splattered across the bridge of her little button nose, than the blonde's "gorgeous blue eyes" as Pogue had said, trying to sound enticing. It didn't sway him, though, his mind couldn't be changed. The girl the gruff biker supposed Caleb was going to marry reminded him slightly of a mouse; she had thin lips, a strong jaw, and from what he heard from Reid, a great body.

But none of that mattered to him. The blonde girl, Pru, wasn't the same as the brunette one, to put it simply. Her hair—_like silk straw_, he thought with a pained smile—reminded him of Sarah, and he felt a pang of hurt, memories of her rushing up to meet him.

_No one wants to be with a freak._

Pogue had been told similar words as he was, Sarah and Kate feeding them the same lines. As soon as he had brought up college plans, Sarah and Kate had mentioned going away—forever. And their futures didn't include Pogue, Caleb, Ipswich _or _the Power.

In some sick, sadistic kind of way, Sarah was almost right. No one wants to be with a freak—unless they were one, too.

After spending the afternoon being beat up senseless, then healed, all in a world of Powers so much stronger than his own, all Caleb could think was that these people were freaks. He didn't mind it at all, it was actually pretty funny watching them interact with each other; they fought and talked and loved and hated like normal families, but somehow wove powers in to that dynamic, as well. He'd never seen anything like it, especially not in his own home, and it stupefied him. But they were definitely strange, no matter their family dynamic. They were just like him, only they didn't pretend to be normal—not at all, he thought with a smile; they embraced their magic to the brim, something he'd never thought was acceptable.

Now, however, he knew it was, and all he wanted to do was return and join their crazy, magical world. Instead, he took the guys back to the hotel he booked for them and himself and flopped down on the bed, pouting slightly. Caleb would've much rather have stayed at the Halliwell manor—where he'd been invited to stay, by the man named Coop—though, just to get another glimpse of the small, nameless brunette. To learn her name, say it, and taste the word on his tongue. He couldn't stop the feeling of wanting to talk to her every day for the rest of their lives, even though they hadn't said a single word to each other_._

_Yet, _his mind added subconsciously. _We haven't spoken _yet_._

That night, he went to bed without a word to any of the other Sons. He just needed his space from them for the moment. At first, he just lied in bed, picturing her face on the insides of his eyelids. Somewhere along the line of imagining her face breaking into a smile he hadn't yet seen—especially not directed at himself, Caleb fell asleep, and dreamed all night of a tiny brunette he knew he should forget if he really was engaged to that blonde.

**.**

"Well?" Piper asked her daughter excitedly the next morning, climbing on top of her bed with three steaming, homemade cups of hot chocolate. Pru shortly followed the smell of chocolate down the hall from the room she'd slept in and into Melinda's, and crawled under the covers with Melinda, burrowing herself into the warmed blankets.

"Well, what?" she asked her mother, slightly confused.

"Is he cute?" Piper reiterated, having not seen the boy yesterday since she'd been gone until after they left.

Melinda blushed, not expecting the question, but managed to quickly right herself enough to answer adequately. "I don't really know. I'm not even sure I know which one is _him._ They didn't even introduce themselves."

"Neither did we, though," Pru said, butting in with her opinion like usual. "I know who I think is smokin' hot! The guy—."

"Let me _guess_," Melinda already knew exactly who Pru had spent her night alone dreaming of. It was fairly obvious, if one knew the blonde's personality well enough. "The one in the leather jacket with the long hair and green eyes?"

"Yes!" she exclaimed, a goofy, almost love-struck smile on her face, "How did you know? Do you think he's hot too?"

"Oh, gosh. He's a bad boy?" Piper asked, shaking her head sadly. She knew bad boys, and they were _bad_, to put it simply—but she supposed they could be good too, although it was rare and probably unnatural.

"Mom, I'm not even sure if Mr. James Dean is him," Melinda sighed, nicknaming the nameless man. She smiled at a sudden thought, "Billy Idol was there, too." Both Melinda and Pru giggled at the image of the blond guy in one of Billy Idol's leather outfits, complete with piercings.

"Billy Idol?" the elder woman asked, images of piercings and cigarettes and chains and curse words flitted through her mind at the name's mention, as did tight leather black pants. "Never mind ... I don't think I really want to know."

"No," Pru laughed, shaking her head, "He's just blond and annoyingly snarky. He was kind of rude, too."

Piper chuckled at the thought, but grew serious at the idea of Billy Idol being her daughter's betrothed. "How old were they, anyways?" she asked, always curious. After all, neither the Elders nor the Book had mentioned any age requirements of the males. "Not too old, I hope."

Melinda and Pru exchanged glances that did not go unnoticed by Piper. "College age, I think? I don't know. Twenty?"

Piper sucked in a breath. _College?_ Twenty? Her baby wasn't even eighteen yet and she was getting married to an older man! Not that much older, but still. Wyatt and Chris weren't even that serious with girls yet, and Wyatt was already twenty-three! Would this mystery man be serious with her baby girl like a married couple should be?

Her thoughts had taken a rather sour turn, so she quickly changed the subject. "How many came with him?"

"There were four in total—that's why we got so scared," Pru whispered the last part, a little ashamed of her fear.

Piper patted the girl's hand with a soft smile, always fully and completely maternal, even with children that weren't quite hers. "No need to worry, dear. I did worse things than attack four guys in my day."

All three women, both young and old, giggled and finished their chocolate drinks, enjoying the last bit of morning as much as they could. It wasn't often this house was so quiet; today was obviously yesterday's kinder aftermath—it was as silent as a mouse, and yesterday it had been louder than elephants. Snores could be heard coming from Leo, Wyatt, and Chris' rooms.

Suddenly, Piper gasped as something occurred to her. She set down her cup and wrung her hands, looking at the girls. "Are they coming _back?_ I haven't even met them! I should make breakfast. Can you invite them over? Will they even want to come? I don't even know if I could scrounge something up on such short notice, even ... Oh, my goodness, it's already nine! Is that acceptable for breakfast?"

"Mom—chill," Melinda soothed her mother, "I think Coop invited them over again. He's the only one that really talked to them. We were all a bit rude, in hindsight."

"Okay," Piper stated vacantly, accidentally ignoring that last half of her daughter's sentence. "I'll invite Coop, Pheebs, but not Paige or the guys. Or, I could, and ..." The mutterings silenced as she ambled her way out of the room, leaving them in a stressful sort of odd calm in which they determined whether it would be worth it to shower, put make-up on, and dress.

When the door bell rang not ten minutes into their conversation, the decision had been made for them; no showers, no clothes. "Pru and Melinda: the Real Deal, the reality TV show, it's playing today. Right now, in fact!" the blonde exclaimed, a grin on her face as she joked with her cousin.

The pair just giggled over their musings, chatting sleepily about pajamas before entering Chris and Wyatt's rooms to wake them up in their own ways. In Wyatt's room, it was a kiss on the cheek and his eyes fluttered open, the sleepiness and confusion consuming them before a smile overtook his features. Chris' room was another story ... Wyatt went in alone, and came out laughing hysterically, screams of terror and fright behind him.

They didn't ask what he did to wake his brother, and he didn't tell.

"Mmm," Chris moaned as he exited his bedroom, sniffing the air while simultaneously rubbing his backside. "I smell bacon!" Wyatt and Chris glanced at each other before racing down the stairs excitedly, pushing and shoving one another into a wrestling match on the landing about who would get to the bacon first.

Instead of acting like complete idiots, Melinda and Pru just looked at each other and giggled maniacally, grasping hands so Melinda could orb them directly into the kitchen. And orb they did—without a single difficulty; but that was probably because it was such a short distance, although Melinda was unwilling to admit that.

The two entered the room in mid-stride, headed towards the stove top, and were reaching for slices of sizzling pork when a spoon smacked both their hands. They quickly retracted them with matching squeals and yelps, glaring at the offender.

"Ah, ta ta!" Piper scolded, "Did you two just _orb _in here? What happened to orbing into the kitchen for breakfast isn't fair because by the time I get there, all the food's gone? That is, after all, the schtick you were on last week." She looked down her nose at her daughter and neice with an amused smile.

"Um ... Well," Melinda began, fumbling with her pajama bottoms. No words came as she stared at the bacon wantonly.

"_Bacon!"_ Pru exclaimed, "Bacon happened, Auntie Piper," the blonde girl giggled as she kissed and bypassed her aunt before loading up two plates full of bacon, syrup, eggs, more syrup, and two spoons of peanut butter for herself and Melinda.

The pair smiled at Piper innocently, although she assuredly knew they were anything but, before turning around to take seats at the table. Both of them froze at the odd sight the table beheld, heads cocked to the side, eyes wide and blinking.

The four guys from yesterday were shoveling Piper's delicious meal down their throats like they hadn't eaten in days. They were slightly confused at the sight, before realizing that _yes_, Piper had gone through and invited them, and that other males besides the ones they were related to ate like starved men.

Eventually, it registered with Melinda that the group of guys wouldn't notice that someone was staring at them oddly until they had their full, which she could tell from the unhesitating shoveling motions made with their forks wouldn't be for a while. She took a seat at the end, leaving two seats open on either side, keeping a safe and respectful distance between her and _them._

Pru just rolled her eyes at her cousins' choice of seating and slid into the seat beside her, leaning back in the chair lazily and picking food off her cousin's plate. Melinda tucked her legs under her butt on the chair and ate of Pru's plate, too.

"Why don't you eat off your own plate?" Phoebe asked as she flounced into the kitchen with her large husband, eyeing her daughter and niece as though they were both ruffians without manners. "You both got the same exact thing, Little Bit. What's the difference?"

"Hey, Momma!" Pru called to her mother without answering, clearly seeing her mother's question towards the brunette for what it was—a ruse to get Melinda to open up in front of others.

The small girl realized she had been set up too, and sighed before answering. "Her's tastes better."

"I'm sure it does," Chris commented casually in that perverted air all boys had, flanking her side with Wyatt who smacked him on the head for his remark. His blonder, older brother was growing out of his perverted phase and was trying to force his brother out of it, too—it wasn't quite working as well as planned.

"Why don't you just switch plates?" Billy Idol asked from the other end of the table without looking up, shoving food in his mouth all the while. A bit of egg fell from the corner of his lips.

"Because, _Billy_," the blond Pru was addressing didn't even look up, as if the particular insulting nickname was a common occurrence for him—though it was also possible that the food he was eating was simply too delicious. "If we switched plates, her plate would be mine, thus making the plate that was mine but is now hers taste better than the one that was hers and is now mine. So we'd have to switch over and over again, and it'd just be a pointless cycle, really," replied Pru, not even realizing how snide she was being—it evidently came to her naturally. Melinda smiled.

"God, my head hurts now, Barbie. Thanks." Henry said, planting a kiss atop her head before loading up a plate full of food and slouching down in the chair at Pru's side.

"Where's Pat?" Melinda mouthed to him, to which he mouthed back the one word that spoke in volumes: "Dad." She cringed for him but went back to her food. Ever since Henry's twin, Pat, had come out of the closet months ago, their Dad had been acting strangely. Very homophobic, Melinda believed.

"So ..." her mother started, and she almost groaned. The famous Piper Halliwell was no doubt about to begin her infamous questioning of the four guys, which probably included a more than mortifying introduction between them and the family.

This was going to be the longest and most embarrassing breakfast of her life, unless she found some way out of it. Almost as if she'd read her thoughts—which was impossible, as the blonde didn't have that power—Pru dropped her fork, and the pair locked eyes, both convening the same message.

They had to make a quick getaway.


	5. Call of Duty

Call of Duty

**

* * *

**

When _she _orbed into the kitchen, he froze.

The others kept on eating like rabid animals, but Caleb ate slower now, with less focus because he kept looking up to sneak glances at her in those cute pajamas—no more than a large man's shirt and grey baggy sweats—which were falling off her thin frame. The clothes swamped her body, masking any shape she could have had into a rather adorable, cotton blob.

The blonde, whom he attempted to look at in hopes of somehow becoming attached to her instead of the other girl, wore a slip of a nightdress that hung loosely off her tall form. She might have had curves, but Caleb didn't notice them; all he saw was the studded piercing protruding from the side of _her_ nose, the wide yet delicate shape of _her _lips.

He didn't realize he was staring until one of his brothers—or at least he hoped it was one of his brothers; if someone else had caught him staring it would be highly embarrassing—kicked him in the shin. Caleb ducked his head and started eating again, just blissfully content to listen to the conversation around him.

It was seeming to be a habit that no one called the brunette by her given name, Caleb noticed. They instead addressed her by choosing nicknames that had absolutely nothing to do with her name, but more to do with her size, which made sense since she was rather vertically challenged. She was at_ least_ a full foot and a half shorter than him, barely reaching his chest. It would be comical to see—Caleb didn't want to finish that sentence, blocking out the images of himself attempting to kiss the small girl.

He was betrothed to the blonde, whoever she was, and he should stick to having weird daydreams—_fantasies_, Reid called them tauntingly—of her.

When her mother, Piper, the chatty woman with an endearing face whom he'd met at the door, started to speak, both of the girls looked up, startled. They exchanged some sort of unreadable but nevertheless important glance, then both abruptly stood and extricated themselves gracefully from the mass of people at the table, not bumping one person.

Piper caught them in the act, visibly unappreciative of their desire to get away. "Just where do you two think you're going?" she asked them, hands on her hips.

"Um... Uh. I—Oh! Peyton. Right, Pru? _Peyton_?" the tiny brunette stuttered over her words in the most endearing way, trying to find some excuse to claim to while nudging her friend, the blonde—Pru—in the side.

"Yeah. Yeah, Peyton. _Right_. Bye, now!" she said quickly, briefly turning around to address the crowd at the table. Caleb watched as her eyes strayed to Pogue, lingering on him too long to be coincidental.

Without acknowledging her friend's glance at all, the small brunette grabbed the blonde's hand, orbing, as he'd heard Piper's husband Leo call it, out of the room. Piper's eyes narrowed at the spot where they once stood and she muttered something under her breath, some sort of rhyme, and not a second later a loud thud could be heard from upstairs, followed by several less than honorable curses and shouted swears.

He caught Reid's eye and rolled his dark eyes at the man's smirk. The blond was clearly enjoying all the action and liveliness the Halliwell manor held.

"That's not _my_ kid," Piper said the same time her sister did, eyeing each other before leaving the room and going upstairs, leaving the rest of the people to eat in peace.

For around five minutes, it was completely silent—not a single peep could be heard from any of the four women upstairs. Then Caleb and the other Sons jumped as an explosion sounded, followed by more than ten others. Caleb watched the people around the table carefully, noticing how none of them so much as batted an eyelash at the shattering and breaking sounds coming from up the stairs.

**.**

"I know! I _know _it's gonna be super weird. But you still gotta try, Lovies," Phoebe said to her daughter and niece, trying to be apathetic and kind while still remaining a firm stance on the point she and Piper had come to make.

Of course it would be weird, Melinda knew. They'd never officially met, but they'd gotten in a fist fight and had almost killed each other, then ate breakfast together in near silence, as though nothing of the sort had ever occurred. Plus, Melinda was merely an awkward person. She knew it, too, and had long since accepted this fact; it was just a part of her personality that could not be changed.

"Do things have to be so ... _Forced?_" Pru asked, whine evident in her tone. She didn't like how the proceedings had gone so far, it was no way to pick up cute boys. She seemed to wish to start over with an all new set of males, even more so for her cousin's sake. However, no one seemed to like that idea. "Can't we all just chill and let things happen on their own for a little bit? Just the teensiest, littlest bit?" the blonde begged, practically on her knees for her cousin's benefit—she felt like she had to take the lead in this since it could have been her fate instead.

"Yeah," Melinda hastily agreed, nodding along with the blonde's idyllic situation. "And if it doesn't work out fast enough, you can force it all you want."

Phoebe agreed with the girls, but it wasn't until Paige orbed in and stopped Piper from breaking anymore vases that she decided the idea was fine—for the moment, anyway.

**.**

After breakfast and a few games of the newest _Call of Duty _with Chris, Coop, and the little blond—Penny, she seemed very curious about one of them, namely Reid—Caleb and the other guys decided to head out for a bit. Maybe go check out some bars, as Reid had suggested. It didn't sound so bad, considering the hectic week they'd been having. It had begun in the ordinary way, with them all together and hanging out at Reid's, then they got a message from Mrs. Danvers, telling them to come home, then they hear they're all going to get Addicted and die unless Caleb marries a stranger, and then he spent the next much less ordinary week packing and searching the country for her, and when he'd finally found her she'd attacked him. It took great effort to believe his life was not a soap opera.

Yes, a drink or seven did not sound bad to the Danvers son at all.

After saying goodbye to the few that had acknowledged their presence, the group of four filed out the door and walked down the path to the silver Mustang Caleb loved so much. Just as the front door closed, he could've sworn he'd seen the blue-white lights which accompanied orbing in the hall, but when nothing happened he dismissed the thought and walked around the side to the driver's seat. He was sliding in to his seat when the door was flung open so hard it smacked against the side of the house with a loud _bang._

Caleb looked up in surprise, and there was none other than Pru, dragging behind her a bored and very jostled looking brunette. He grinned as they got closer, glancing over at Pogue expectantly to see his friend smiling just as wide as he. In the short time at the manor, he'd discovered Pogue also liked the blonde—he'd should have known even earlier, having recognized the obvious signs of attraction when he kept pointing her out. Pogue wasn't very sneaky, and that blonde girl didn't seem to be either, what with all her staring.

"Wait!" she shouted, pulling the smaller girl with her as she hustled down the path.

And wait he did. Pogue probably would've murdered him with his bare hands if he even _tried _to leave right now, with introductions so close and within reach—not that he wanted to either, though.

"Hi," Pru began, stopping beside the car, almost touching Pogue's door.

The top was down already, so they could see clearly. When no one spoke back, Caleb rolled his eyes. "Hey, guys," he drawled, knowing Pogue was probably too speechless. The quiet, brooding bad boy was never good around pretty girls. Caleb glanced at the brunette quickly, but she appeared to be studying the sky, the trees, the sidewalk—looking anywhere but the car.

"We never really introduced ourselves, I guess," she stated simply, giving off no remorse or embarrassment for their lack of action at all. She was purely confident as she spoke. "I'm Prudence Halliwell, butjust call me Pru."

Pogue suddenly un-froze and smiled wider, even though he'd probably already known her name—but who knew? Caleb knew his best friend was actually as oblivious as he seemed to be more than half of the time.

"Melinda," And just like that, her eyes flickered to him before looking away quickly, as though she had known he specifically had wanted to know her name.

"Yeah, you can just call her anything really. She answers to dumb ass on a bad day," Pru smirked and Melinda scowled.

He cleared his throat gently, ready to introduce himself as well, only to have Pogue stick a hand out to grasp Pru's. "Pogue Parry."

If possible, Pru's grin widened ever more when he said his name and she grasped his hand with her own slim one. Caleb knew her grin had to be because of his name, and the letters it began with specifically. He wondered curiously why the Halliwells all had P names. Only Piper's children didn't have them, and Caleb was quite curious as to why. However, in that moment, no one else seemed to be reflecting his thoughts—perhaps Pru was, to some extent, but she seemed more focused on the fact that he had a double P name.

"I'm Tyler Simms," Ty said, smiling kindly from the back seat. From beside him, Reid introduced himself as well, only in a manner that had Melinda smirking.

The blond flicked his shaggy hair out of his eyes and smiled smugly. "Garwin, Reid Garwin," he declared.

There was a lull in the broken conversation in which Caleb got too caught up in watching Melinda to realize it was his turn to speak. When her eyes flickered over to him, catching his own glance, he stated simply, "Caleb Danvers."

"Cool," the blonde deduced, looking over them all. Her eyes noticeably lingered longest on Pogue. "We gotta get back ... But, here. Gimme your phone, Pogue," Pru said softly, holding her hand out to grasp his phone. Faster than anyone he knew, she clicked in two separate numbers before handing his phone back and walking away.

As Caleb pulled away, he glanced back again to see Melinda standing with one foot in the door, head turned over her shoulder to look at him. She smiled slightly and waved, a smile he returned with his own before leaving.

**.**

"Pogue!" Pru exclaimed, "Pogue Parry!" She popped every P loudly, accentuating and enunciating the consonant. "His name is _Pogue Parry! _How perfect is that? We're meant to be," she sighed dreamily, eyes cast upward and her hands clasped to her chest.

Melinda giggled and rolled her eyes, taunting her cousin ever so gently in her sweet demeanor. "You're practically pre-destined, Pru!"

"Oh shush up, old fool," the blonde heckled playfully, "You're just jealous because you don't have a P name and you know it!"

The small brunette girl continued to smile and laugh at her seemingly love-struck cousin, even though her own thoughts were focused on a certain brown-haired, brown-eyed, tall and broad man—the ringleader of the group, she had determined. His name was Caleb, and with his quiet yet observant eyes and small, knowing smile, he was absolutely gorgeous; not that she was going to be telling anyone that any time soon, though.

Melinda still couldn't be sure of who she was supposed to be marrying. Neither her mother nor her aunts had mentioned it yet, and she wasn't entirely sure they even knew. As of yet, he could be any of them; Caleb, the leering blond, the sweet-looking blue-eyed brunette—or even Pogue. She would feel absolutely horrible and indebted to Pru if that was the circumstance, but it was truly just as likely to be him as it was Caleb, the man that had caught her eye. And if it was Caleb ... Well, that would make Melinda very, very happy. She wouldn't mind getting to know him for the rest of her life. He seemed nice enough, anyway, and a much better choice than the smirking blond one that gave the impression of being very sarcastic and cynical.

**.**

It had been two whole days since he and the guys had last been at the Halliwell's manor, and Caleb felt like he was going slowly but surely more than slightly insane—and for no real reason at all, or so it appeared to him.

He was fine until they'd left the bar, only several hours after they'd left the manor. The mutterings began when they'd reached they hotel they'd taken up residence at. He wasn't saying anything important, or even anything in particular. Just whatever popped into his head would come straight out of his mouth; it was uncontrollable and quite alarming. The guys had ditched him at the bar on the first floor of the hotel to watch a basketball game—or in Reid's case, girl-watch unsuccessfully—so they didn't notice. However, Caleb did, and he quickly left the bar to hide out in his room.

Two hours later, he started to pace. Back and forth, back and forth across the room. Caleb ran his hands through his hair so many times, the ruffled look it often got that his mother hated so much just wasn't going away anymore. The guys still weren't back yet, and he was thankful for the lack of their presence. When they did get back, it was past three in the morning, and they were surprised to see him still awake. He ended up staying awake all night, muttering and pacing and thinking. Pogue had left, choosing to sleep on the floor of Reid and Tyler's room, after barely being in the same room with Caleb for five minutes.

The next morning, they reconvened for breakfast. Caleb interrogated Pogue, whose phone had the only contact numbers for the Halliwells, but he hadn't heard from them since they'd left the manor the night previous.

He had to wonder why they hadn't contacted them to meet up again. They had traded numbers for a reason, after all, and it wasn't like there was much time to get to know them, anyways, but the real reason he wanted to hear from them was so that they could get back to the manor. Caleb needed to even get a glimpse of the Halliwell's home, he _needed _to. It was driving him nuts, and in turn he was driving the other guys nuts. They didn't understand his irrational behavior anymore than he understood why they weren't freaking out.

It didn't even make sense—why was he reacting this way? He didn't understand why he needed to return to the manor, nor why the other guys didn't feel his urgency. There had to be reason why he felt the need to go back, and the only one he could think of was Melinda. He had taken a liking to her, he could admit that, but he couldn't comprehend why he needed to see her so badly. Perhaps it was a sign that the small brunette girl was really his betrothed and not the blonde at all, and maybe Pogue was wrong. Well, that was what he hoped, anyway. He'd rather be driven insane by old magic than by his own mind, and Pogue seemed to really have a spot for Pru.

Suddenly a thought hit him. What if Melinda got hurt, and that's why she didn't get back to him? She could be lying on her death bed right now, and he wouldn't even know it.

It took all three guys to hold him down on the ground before he ripped the door off it's hinges to see Melinda and make sure she was okay—even though he couldn't be sure she was even hurt, and eventually Tyler Used to knock him out. When Caleb awoke, he felt better. Confused, but better. Everything from earlier was blurry, like a drunken or drug-induced haze.

He looked back on his thoughts much more calmly and orderly—even Pogue had come back into their shared hotel room, now.

It made sense to him that Putnam had put some enchantment on the arrangement, so that there would be effects to make them be together, even if they didn't actually need to. He began to doubt that he had actual feelings for Melinda—_if_ she was his betrothed, anyway—and that it was just old magic.

If the arrangement had affected him like that, what was it doing for Pru/Melinda? Caleb still wasn't sure just who his betrothed was, but he felt most attached to Melinda, not Pru. Maybe Melinda was his betrothed, after all—then would she be going crazy, too? His worries started up again, but he remained more controlled than before.

Caleb worried all day, only pausing in his stress-pacing to agree to visit the zoo with Melinda and Pru the next day. One whole day away—they'd already been apart for a day, now it was going to be two. It was so long, he thought, but reasoned that maybe Melinda wasn't so sick after all, if they'd made plans for the next day.

He convinced himself that she could be holding up just fine. Melinda was okay; in fact, she was fine—or so he hoped.


	6. Withdrawals

Withdrawals

**

* * *

**

One look at Melinda would tell anyone that she was quite frazzled.

The whites of her eyes were past the state of being bloodshot and has since turned a disturbing shade of yellow; her fingers were twitching, and her lips still had indentations of bite marks in them, along with the after taste of blood on her tongue left from those bites. No one understood why she appeared so physically distraught, and most had long since quit asking when she didn't respond to anyone, not even Pat or Pru.

Melinda's family did not consider her a secretive girl, but recently she'd taken to ignoring their questions. Most of the time, she would just mumble something under her breath about her powers going haywire again before leaving the room quickly. And since then, she'd not come out of her room at all.

A single look at Melinda would let anyone know that she was very under the weather—but no one got even a glance at her, since she'd stopped leaving the safe haven of her bedroom the day before.

The Halliwells figured it was because of her powers, and her caution of the safety for others, but even when her father had assured her they could handle themselves, she still hadn't come out. Her mother had begun to worry, but refused to allow them to orb into Melinda's room if she didn't want them to.

Two days passed since breakfast and their introduction, and she still hadn't come out. Nevertheless, Pru invited the guys to visit the local zoo with them, feeling as though something needed to be done, whether it was with Melinda's betrothed or Melinda herself. She had only waited so long to do so because of Melinda; as soon as they left she fell into complete disrepair and no one could find the rationality behind it. From what they'd seen of her before she went Cinderella on them, she looked like crap, and acted like crap too—she was really quite grumpy, and Pru knew just then wasn't the best time for her suitor to see her.

However, when she'd begun to leave her bedroom less and less, Pru decided it was high time for an intervention and sprung into immediate action. If she had to carry Melinda out of her room, kicking and screaming to get her out, Pru would do it—if only because it simply needed to be done.

A few minutes before Pogue and the others were set to arrive to pick them up, Pru knocked on Melinda's door—she didn't want to give her cousin any time to find an excuse not to come, thus her logic behind waiting until the last minute. "Hey! Pogue's coming to get us! We got plans today. Come on out!"

Upon receiving no reply, she jiggled the doorknob and didn't hesitate to enter Melinda's precious bedroom when she found it unlocked.

Inside, everything was spotless. The bed was perfectly made and tucked in tightly, the pillows arranged just so; even her childhood stuffed animals were still on the bed, instead of the floor where they usually were. It was as though no one had even slept in it, and judging from the rest of the room's meticulous appearance, as though no had even _lived _in it.

Pru glanced about the room from the doorway, not wanting to enter and soil the tidy room somehow. She awoke from the trance-like state she'd fallen in from staring at such a perfect room, which was extremely opposite from the one she had at her own home, and stepped inside to get the girl.

"Melinda?" she called softly, semi-nervous. Her voice wavered; she wasn't even entirely sure her cousin was even in the room.

Just as she was about to leave and begin searching the rest of the house for her, a quiet, groan-like moan answered her and Pru jumped a foot in the air. Slightly shaken from the odd reply, she entered further into the room and peeked into the bathroom, but it was vacant. "Mel? You in here?" Pru looked around the side of the bed which was nearly against the wall and froze in place.

There was her cousin, curled up in the corner, sitting against the wall between the bed and the window. Her arms were wrapped around her knees, holding them tightly to her chest as though she were about to fall apart and shatter into a million pieces. When Pru looked closer at the petite brunette, she saw that her cousin looked _awful._

"Oh, My. _God_." Pru walked around the bed and crouched down beside her older, but much smaller cousin, taking in Melinda's rugged appearance with worried eyes.

Melinda's eyelids were drooped, barely closing all the way even when she blinked. Her face was sallow and pale, her lips dry and cracked, with purple, bruised bags shadowing her eyes. The girl looked like she hadn't eaten, or even slept in _days. _She smelled awful, like someone that hadn't gotten up or moved in many too many hours and seriously needed to bathe or even get some fresh air that wasn't tainted by her own odor.

"I'm fine ..." she croaked as her eyes attempted to focus on the blonde's stunned face, her voice rough and crackling from misuse, similar to how Pru thought a smoker's did. Her eyes couldn't quite do the job though, and drooped again.

"No, you are _not _fine!" Pru insisted, unsure of how to handle the situation but feeling angry at her cousin for allowing herself to fall into such disrepair all the same. "You look awful, Min-Min."

"Gee, thanks," Melinda attempted to joke, but Pru didn't laugh.

She didn't even smile. She just sighed and shook her head sadly. The younger of the two girls slipped her hands underneath Melinda's arms and lifted her up, holding her body weight against herself and hobbling forward in little steps.

"What are you doing?" the brunette asked weakly, unable to muster up enough strength to struggle or let alone flail against Pru, who was seeming to be kidnapping her away from her protected, enclosed corner.

"Being clean is the first step to getting better," the blonde recited, like she was a self-help booklet in a rehabilitation center. "Besides, Caleb, Pogue and the guys are coming to pick us up. I wanted to show them Cali's awesomest zoo, but ..." Pru looked down at Melinda, whom was hanging limply in her arms and frowned again. "I don't think that'll be happening today," she finished as she helped her into the bathroom and let her undress while running a warm bath for the girl.

Pru would've left her alone while she soaked to give her some privacy, but she knew her cousin's arms were probably too weak to thoroughly scrub her own hair. She washed Melinda's hair, brought her clean clothes, and waited with her back turned while she dressed.

"No ..." the brunette began, struggling slightly with the process of speaking and getting dressed at the same time. "You guys ... You should still go."

"But what about you? It's pretty pointless if you're not there—you're the only reason they're here!" she exclaimed heatedly before pausing, realizing she'd come off as rude. She changed tactics, "It's not like I can leave you in this condition, anyways—you can't even walk by yourself, Melinda. You would be helpless if I left, and no one else is here right now," Pru added, thinking about the empty house below them. Everyone had left when Pru had assured them she could take care of Melinda on her own.

"Don't worry ... I'll be fine." The doorbell rang as Melinda spoke and Pru looked up, worried. Sensing her cousin's thoughts, Melinda began again, "Seriously. Go have fun. I'm just gonna sleep, anyway. I won't need you here while I'm unconscious."

Pru bit her lip cautiously; her cousin still sounded weakened, but at least now she was clean and walking around—sort of—a bit. In the end, she complied and left the bathroom, shutting the door behind her with a click. The uncertain blonde headed down the stairs to greet the boys at the door. "Hey, guys ..." she began, sounding quite exhausted.

"What's wrong?" asked Pogue, who easily picked up on his crush's feelings.

She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "It's Min-Min ... I mean, Melinda."

Caleb's head snapped up at her name and his eyes turned anxious as they searched for the tiny brunette in the hall behind her cousin, but she was nowhere to be seen—perhaps she was currently going through what he went through, he thought worriedly, though he couldn't be sure as to why she would. Pogue was still sure that Pru was his fiancee, but Caleb's mind was on the fence.

"She's—I don't even know how to explain it," she hiccuped softly, looking ready to burst into tears at her cousin's weakened state. "She hasn't come out of her room, slept, or eaten, since you guys left here. Something's going on, but she won't talk to anyone and won't move at all."

A tear rolled down her cheek but she didn't move to wipe it away. Pogue had to clench his fists to his sides to stop himself from reaching out to grab her and comfort her. She didn't need to be confused by that right now, and he knew it, especially if she was the one involved in the arrangement.

"I'm sorry ..." he whispered instead, very quietly and in a soft tone that none of the guys had ever heard him make. Reid gave him a funny look for it, but Pogue didn't care. Pru needed somebody right now, and he was willing to be that person for her. That was all that mattered.

She shook her head. "I just—I don't think it's a good idea for me to leave her right now. I mean, she said she was just going to sleep, but it doesn't feel right, leaving her behind." Tyler suggested that instead of going out, they stay in with her, and keep her company. Caleb nodded along excitedly, obviously agreeing with the idea. "You would do that for me ... For us?" she asked, looking slightly teary-eyed and emotional at the aspect of strangers doing something kind for them.

Tyler shifted uncomfortably at her emotional response, but quickly let it go when Pogue shot him a protective glare. They all nodded at her, and she let them in. Caleb looked longingly up at the stairs, but she either didn't notice, or didn't acknowledge it. "If you want to stay, you can. I won't be very good company, but Auntie Piper left food in the kitchen." Reid looked pumped up at the mention of food, as usual.

"Of course we'll stay. We're friends, remember?" Tyler smiled at her cautiously, making a rather visible attempt at getting back into Pogue's good graces.

Pru nodded, but started to cry harder anyway, and Pogue just gave up any idea of restraint as a sob ripped through the air. He grabbed her gently and pulled her swiftly to his chest, hugging her tighter than air. To her credit, Pru didn't even flinch. She just let him hold her and buried her face in his chest, her slim body wracking with harsh sobs and cute little hiccups that didn't quite match her snotty, runny nose.

After several minutes, the crying slowed until it became no more than a trickle of wet tears down her cheeks, and Pru slumped against Pogue, exhausted from her crying jag. He held her up in his arms and carried her to the couch, settling on the side cushion and curling her up in his lap so he could still hold her. Pru's eyes fluttered to a close and Pogue smiled before planting a soft, comforting kiss atop her head, letting her know she was safe and in good hands.

Melinda may have been that was sick, but Pru was exhausted, and the one that really needed somebody.

**.**

Tyler and Reid watched on in awe. They had never seen Pogue be so ... _Expressive_. It was very unusual for him to hold a conversation up by himself, or at least without the help and input of Caleb or the guys, let alone hold a woman in his arms without it being sensual caress. Caleb, however, watched in jealousy. He wanted what they had, and he wanted it with Melinda; he didn't even care if they hadn't spoken, or even if he and Pru were getting married—_Melinda _was all he really cared about in that moment.

Glancing around the manor briefly, Caleb noted that no one was in the house besides the five of them, not including Melinda, whom he assumed was upstairs. He took a chance and stepped up the stairs, disregarding everything he'd been taught was right, and cringed when they creaked under his weight and probably alerted Pru, but he still didn't stop. He was a determined man.

Caleb climbed the stairs to the top, creaks or no creaks, and weaved through the hallways, searching for the one bedroom he wanted to see. He wasn't sure which one was hers, and didn't feel right opening them all up, but he needn't worry—a soft tug in the pit of his stomach took him straight down the hall, and stopped him before the last door.

It was closed, but he knew she was in there. Melinda was _right there._ It wasn't a realization, or something that had come to him or had been whispered in his ear by the wind. He just knew that she was in there, just within reach.

He stared at the door, and after deciding not to knock in case she really was sleeping, he twisted the knob and stepped in, but saw no one, which was slightly disappointing until he realized there was another door, which probably led to a bathroom or closet. Caleb knocked on it gently, and before he could call out, Melinda shocked him by speaking in a hoarse voice.

"Seriously, Pru. Go without me; I'm not doing anything, here. You'll have more fun at the zoo than here, watching me snooze. Please—go for me? ... Pru?"

He didn't know what to say. Caleb just froze up as she called out her cousin's name again and realized he would have to answer soon. "No—Pru's with Pogue, downstairs. It's me, Caleb."

**.**

_Knock, knock_—Pru was at the door again.

Melinda sighed. Why couldn't her cousin understand she _wanted _her to go, to be left alone? She'd feel guilty if she made Pru stay behind, all because she'd been acting like a complete lunatic recently. It was completely idiotic to stay behind and watch her sleep when she could be showing four hot guys around the San Francisco zoo, and she knew Pru would see the logic in that.

She cleared her throat to try and get rid of some of the roughness, but she doubted it helped any. "Seriously, Pru. Go without me; I'm not doing anything, here. You'll have more fun at the zoo than here, watching me snooze. Please—go for me?" she asked with a soft sigh, ready to hear her cousin's furious reply again. When she received no answer, she swallowed, nervous. "...Pru?"

Was the blonde girl so angry with her she'd been stunned into silence by her begging? It wouldn't have been the first time, if that was really the case. "Pru?" she called again, hoping her smoker-esque voice sounded somewhat apologetic.

And quite suddenly, she got her reply; just not from the person she'd been expecting, not at all. "No—Pru's with Pogue, downstairs," a deep, smooth voice called from the other side of the bathroom door. "It's me, Caleb."

Melinda froze as the man identified himself, then almost immediately began blushing. Had she really just said all that, without even realizing the person on the other side of the door might not be her cousin? She had heard the door bell ring, after all—she just assumed Pru had told them to leave, or wait, or something. At least she hadn't voiced her thoughts, though.

She contemplated pretending she hadn't heard him, or wasn't actually in there at all, but knew Pru would probably be made later on if she found out—besides, this was _Caleb_, the quiet, broody giant that she had so clearly deemed as delectable. She couldn't even deny that her heart rate had nearly doubled when Pru had mentioned he and the others were coming over, despite being exhausted and out of her mind.

The tiny brunette girl decided upon her plan of action with a few choice words—what would Pru do?

**.**

For a moment, the people on either side of the bathroom door were consumed in complete and utter silence. Everything seemed so quiet, it was almost like he'd never spoken.

Caleb worried that she wasn't going to come out, or even deem him worthy of a reply. Then, so suddenly that he froze, the door flew open. Melinda was standing there, looking up at him with wide eyes, her mouth open.

Even if she did look very unhealthy and tired, Caleb couldn't deny that her beauty still shone through. Her hair was wet, as though she had just gotten out of the shower, and her eyes shone like little green emeralds with bruised bags beneath them.

Looking down at her, he could see himself reflected in her unyielding green eyes. He remembered just what it was like when he was—_unhealthy_—and suddenly paused. It felt like going through withdrawals, and maybe that's just what they were. Had they become addicted to each other's presence in such a short time after learning one another's names?

Perhaps she was the one he was supposed to marry, after all.

After being near him for what could only have been a few mere minutes, Melinda had visibly relaxed. Her shoulders slumped, but not in defeat—in exhaustion. She was visibly worn out. Then suddenly, her legs gave out beneath her and Melinda was lying in Caleb's outstretched arms, blushing and looking up at him as he was looking down at her.

Without even thinking, he carried her to the bed, and pulled the sheets back. As he was lowering her onto the mattress, and out of his arms, her eyes fluttered to a close like she was falling into what he hoped was a peaceful rest. He turned around to leave once she was under the blankets, but she reached out and grabbed his arm, both surprising him and preventing him from going any further.

"No—don't ... Please don't leave me." His eyes caught hers, and she flushed again. "I don't want to be alone."

Caleb released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, and smiled genuinely at her. He picked her her back up into his arms again and he sat down on the bed while she was cradled in his arms like a small child, and he leaned against the headboard.

Melinda's head fell against his chest as she lost herself to sleep, but she murmured her words one more time. This time, he had a ready reply for her, that even though might've been too soon to say, Caleb felt it was right and from the heart.

The word slipped off his tongue and out his lips before they could even be stopped. "Never."


	7. Just a Number

It's Just a Number, No Big!

**

* * *

**

Gradually, Pru began to wake up.

She didn't want to, though; she hadn't slept so well in _days _and though the bags from under her eyes probably weren't gone yet, Pru knew she had to get up. Melinda was probably still locked away in her bedroom and she needed to check up on her, maybe get her to eat something. Yeah—it sounded like a good idea to feed the invalid. Nevertheless, Pru was very comfortable in her current position and was determined not to be fully awake yet.

She was warm and happy, confined in whatever small space she had holed up in. Possibly her dad's favorite recliner, or maybe in the old Halliwell rocking chair. Pru assumed it was one of these two and not anywhere else because of the gentle motion her body took part in whenever she breathed. With a breath in, she was tilted backwards ever so gently. Likewise, when she breathed out her body went forward more than normal, leading her to believe in the rocking chair theory, rather than just a couch or her own bed.

The rocking motion was lulling her into a simple peace, Pru soon realized, but she knew she wouldn't be able to go back to sleep just yet. She really wasn't tired enough for that anymore, and she really did have things to do.

She lithely stretched her long limbs from beneath herself, wiggling cautiously to be sure of her balance in the chair. Fortunately, she seemed safe enough because the rocking motion suddenly ceased, stilling at what was obviously her movement—which didn't make sense at all, since rocking chairs rocked through movement.

In her confusion, her blue eyes fluttered open cautiously and curiously, only to find herself at the Halliwell mansion, in the living room. Pru was facing the TV, which placed her on the couch—not a rocking chair or enclosed space at all. Hmm, she thought. Then why did she feel so confined, so pressured? The couch wasn't huge but it certainly wasn't _this _small.

As though it was purposely trying to distract her, the gentle rocking picked back up, as sleep-inducing as before. Her eyes fell to a close of their own will, and she shifted ever so slightly to find a more comfortable position. It wasn't very easy to find; while the cushion was quite warm, it wasn't very plushy. She didn't remember the couch ever being this hard. The movement quit again, the cushion beneath her feeling rock hard. Pru felt tense, though her limbs were loose and relaxed—but it wasn't her that was tense, she realized.

It was the thing she was sitting on.

Right about then she heard someone take a deep breath, someone very, _very _close by. Then, she jumped very, very high in shock.

Jerking upright, Pru started to lose balance. A pair of strong arms came around her torso as though to stop her from falling, encircling her close to the body they belonged to. Immediately Pru fell into the natural Halliwell way—defense mode. Whoever this person was was holding her against her will, and she was going to fight back.

Her mother had trained her for this very moment when she was quite young, and despite her father's concerns, she excelled in the mastery of martial arts. Suddenly her body was working on it's own, detached from her mind altogether as it attacked her trapper.

In one swift motion, her eyes opened and her elbow jerked back to close her attacker's throat while she wiggled and writhed, using her other hand to fight the arms around her. The person beneath her coughed and choked erratically, forcing a triumphant grin upon her lips—until they spoke.

"Pru! _Fuck_, Pru, you just elbowed my throat!" Pogue choked out hoarsely, quickly releasing her from his hold.

At least she wasn't being attacked by a demon, Pru thought—a real one anyway, she added, remembering the ordeal when they'd first arrived. She stopped attacking him, but what happened next was really just sad. When he let her go to assuage his throat, she started to lose balance again and sought traction in anything she could—mainly what was closest by. Which just so happened to be him. And as she began to slip off his lap her hands grabbed onto anything they could, namely his pants.

It wouldn't have been so bad, really, if she hadn't grabbed him so hard.

Pogue's body jerked and Pru blushed, hurrying to scurry off of his lap as she realized exactly what she had just done. He groaned and fell forward, his body folding in half as though it was an automatic instinct to protect itself from Pru. She winced when he hit the floor with a dull thud, still grimacing in pain.

"Sorry! I'm so, _so _sorry!" she cried, frantically fluttering about him without actually touching him in anyway. She was of no use, and it really sucked; however, that didn't stop her from trying to be of use.

Booming laughter sounded from across the room, where Reid and Tyler stood watching the scene lay itself out. Pru blushed even more when she realized they'd seen the whole thing and hadn't yet said a word. Pogue chuckled darkly, being a good victim, and attempted to stay as still as possible.

"Um—d'you, um, want some ice? Or something?" Pru asked, not being really knowledgeable about what to do when I guy got hurt there—in that, y'know, _area_—other than from what she had seen in movies. And usually the girls doing the injuring in that area weren't nearly as sympathetic unto their victims as she was feeling.

Reid snorted at her suggestion and she blushed even more. What a good day today was turning out to be, she thought sarcastically; perhaps she should have just told the guys to go home when they had arrived.

"No?" she asked hesitantly, still fluttering slightly. "Okay, well ... We could go see if Melinda's healing power came in yet."

He gave her a dark look, faintly recalling the stories he'd heard from the other whitelighters about their first heals; most had lost body parts. This was obviously not a part he wanted to lose. "Right. Bad idea. Sorry—again. I could call Wyatt for you ... ?" He didn't answer her that time at all, leaving her feeling more humiliated than before. "I'm gonna take that as a no, then."

Tyler gave her a look of pity, but otherwise seemed to be enjoying the moment. Finally, he was not the center of the joke. This was a first, and he intended to enjoy it thoroughly, whether or not he felt bad for the girl involved.

Pru looked around helplessly, and upon finding nothing she could do to fix the situation, she simply gave up. "I—I'm just gonna go and check on Mel ..." She started up the stairs and to her cousin's bedroom, not noticing the look of absolute worry that was suddenly etched onto Baby Boy's face.

"Uh-oh."

"What?" Pogue snapped, still slightly distracted with the throbbing pain coming from between his legs, but focused enough to realize that something was so obviously going on.

"Well—It's just that Caleb disappeared up the stairs a while ago, and then never came back. And Melinda ..." he trailed off uncertainly.

"—Is upstairs," finished his blond counterpart.

Pogue stared at them in shock, wondering curiously how they could let poor Pru walk in on whatever was going on up there. He knew someone should have stopped her. Whatever that was going on in that bedroom had the potential of being very scarring, or at least the potential to make her very, very angry. "Shit, why didn't you freaking stop her, dumb shit?"

Reid shrugged and Ty blushed, as per usual. Pogue just slapped Reid upside the head and carefully collapsed on to the couch, still a bit tender in his movements.

**.**

"Min-Min?" Pru asked quietly, knocking on her cousin's door. She didn't want to be too loud and wake Melinda up if she was sleeping, but if the smaller girl was awake then she wanted to be let in! She needed to be fed, after all.

When the younger of the two cousins received no reply, she decided going in was her best chance at finding out if the brunette was awake or not. Besides, she'd been into Mel's room plenty of times. It wasn't like she was breaking her privacy or anything. She was just checking up on her; making sure she was okay—that sort of thing, really.

When the door opened with a faint click of the lock and she still heard nothing, Pru assumed Melinda was sleeping. When it widened enough to allow her viewing access to the bedroom, she saw this assumption was correct as their was a lump on the bed. However, she didn't expect that Melinda and Caleb would be sleeping. Together. Cuddled up. On, in, or whatever preposition to the bed they were. And yet, there they were—cuddling.

Caleb appeared to have been sitting upright at some time, since his body was laying to the side at an awkward angle on the bed. Instead of sleeping on the bed the normal way—the way most people slept in beds, _length_-wise, he had fallen on his side width wise, his feet and a large portion of his legs hanging off the large bed. His arms were wrapped around Melinda, one held her close to him while the other appeared to be entangled in her hair. She had curled face-first into his chest, looking like a tiny child in comparison to his man's body.

They were truly quite adorable, even if it was a little disturbing to see her cousin cuddling with a man she'd hardly spoken to.

And what a man he was! Pru had shyly asked one of the guys how old they were a few nights before and once she found out she did not want to talk to them anymore, feeling slightly creeped out. Pogue had quickly fixed that, though. Hopefully no one else would find out about their little age fiasco. No need to call _rape_ or _pedophile_—not yet, anyway.

She backed out of the room as quietly as she could, only to plop onto the couch with her cell phone, leaving Pogue to watch her speedy thumbs in amazement. He really was old if he was shocked to watch her text.

**.**

Melinda woke up long before Caleb did.

She didn't mind waiting for him, though. He didn't snore, and was perfectly comfortable to sleep on, surprisingly enough. She doubted there were any plans to move from this particular spot for a long while, or at the very least for the next few hours, and didn't mind the lack of plans at all, since it gave her a chance to observe him better.

Her head lifted and fell softly as his chest heaved with slow breaths.

It was comforting to know he was there with her, though she wasn't sure why. Obviously, she had become very attached to him, or at the very least she'd become attached to his constant presence. There was simply something about Caleb that made her feel safe and protected.

It wasn't as though she had never felt that way with her own family, but ... Her thoughts trailed off as she realized that in truth, she _hadn't_. Melinda loved everyone of her relatives dearly and enjoyed their visits, but a gathering of the Halliwells and the Matthews meant a probable demon attack. It had never been an issue for anyone in the family, since they all had powers of some kind to fight with. However, it had been a problem for the people that weren't in the family—people like potential dates brought home, lovers, future partners; these people were rarely brought home because the lack of safety.

But now, Melinda knew someone she wasn't related to that could come over and fend off demons. She knew from experience that Caleb and his friends could hold their own in a battle quite well, plus the fact that he was so big compared to herself helped a bit. She tilted her head up to look at him.

Caleb's face held strong, manly features and dark eyes that frightened the weaker part of herself away every time she looked into them. Although his face was often knotted with worry, when he smiled he brightened up not only himself, but Melinda as well. Somehow, this man had wormed his way into her heart in the few short days she had known him. He made her cry—as she so often did in those two long days, locked away in her bedroom, when he wasn't there—he made her laugh, he made her smile, and he made her worry; and they'd barely spoken to each other.

Suddenly, a terrible thought occurred to her. If this addiction to his presence continued, how could either of them live properly? When he was gone, what would she do? It wasn't as though she could just stick to his side all the time. Would she freak out again if Caleb left her, even for a few hours? She didn't know, and it worried her. What worried her most, though, was how quickly she had found herself in need of him. It wasn't like she was falling in love. No, most definitely not. Love isn't that quick to give, nor receive, Melinda knew. It took time and effort and lots of work, as Uncle Coop had told her time after time. It was likely that Melinda was just confused about this whole thing.

Perhaps she was only confused as to why she felt a pang of guilt when she thought of the days Caleb was away. Had he gotten sick, too? She couldn't tell. This worried her. Many things about Caleb worried her, in fact.

"G'morning," he mumbled, his voice low and deep, rumbling with power and strength.

Somehow in her time of staring at him, Melinda had missed his eyes fluttering open to stare back at her. His eyes were warm today, gold-tinted with what appeared to be happiness or pleasure. She blushed when she found herself staring at him again and he smiled.

"Hi ...," she whispered softly, biting her lower lip to hide a smile when she realized it was not quite morning. In fact, it was not quite evening, either. With a glance at the clock, Melinda found it was five o'clock, almost time for the family to come over for their regular seven o'clock dinners. She'd spent all day in bed with him, snoozing peacefully, and it turned out to be the best sleep she'd ever had, not evening waking up or experiencing a nightmare.

"How long was I out for?" Worry wormed its way onto his face as Caleb frowned slightly, eyes searching her own face. Had she woken up long before him and just laid there? She must've been bored ...

"Well," Melinda sighed happily, "I'm guessing that I fell asleep at about nine this morning, and since it's now five ... That's the first eight hours of uninterrupted sleep I've had in a _long _time. I don't know about you, though—I haven't been awake long."

Caleb smiled. It was the same for him. He hadn't been able to sleep very well since Sarah left him, worrying that she would tell their secret. Caleb would never know that the other guys took care of her memories and Kate's too.

When he quirked and eyebrow at her for her to expand upon her last sentence, she continued. "Just a few minutes—thinking."

"Oh, yeah? What about?"

"You," she blurted, unthinkingly. Melinda blushed and stuttered over her words to when she realized what she said but Caleb just grinned.

She thought about him? It was good to know, since she was on his mind more than anything else, ever.

"I was just wondering ..."

When her words cut off he looked for an explanation, but her face was turned away from him. She was such a introverted, secretive girl, he thought with an internal smile. "About?" Caleb prompted, curious as to her thoughts. Hell, he couldn't be more curious about anything. If the idea didn't sound sickening to him, he would've Used on her to read her mind, all the time. To know what she was thinking about, always; to know her troubles, her wants, her needs .. The idea was pure heaven to him.

Caleb wanted to know everything about this girl.

"Um, well, see ..." Melinda stuttered over her words, trying to come up with something she could actually tell him. She wasn't about to tell him that she was falling in love with him, now was she? Suddenly she blurted out, "How old are you?"

It'd been nagging at her for a while, in fact, to know how old he was. Caleb couldn't be too much older than herself, since he didn't look it at all. It was obvious to see that he was probably done with college already. Maybe twenty-three, or twenty-four? No older than that, surely. She began to fret slightly when he didn't answer after a few beats of silence.

Uh-oh ... How old _was _he, she thought, worried. Caleb froze up, remembering how the guys had told him of Pru's reaction to their age. Both of them were only seventeen, after all. "I'm—Okay, there's no need to freak out, or anything, but, I'm twenty-eight, actually. It's just a number, though. It's not like it means anything; really."

He watched her reaction steadily, since her face had turned back to him when she asked her question. Melinda's lips were pursed together, her cheeks were burning, and her eyes were squinting at the headboard on his other side. That face couldn't be too bad, right? It's not like he was _old. _Just kind of old—ten years older old.

Unbeknownst to him, his words brought an image to her head: her, a baby, less than days old, and him, a ten-year-old. Her stomach clenched.

Right now, Melinda wished that more than anything, she could freeze him so that she could run down the stairs, freeze his friends if they were there, and shake Pru senseless. Undoubtedly, the other girl knew. She always knew things like this, and had probably purposefully kept it from Melinda. It all made sense now. That's why her cousin had stopped bringing up the question to her when they talked. Because she knew and didn't want Melinda to know too.

"Oh. Well ... That's, um, that's ..." she trailed off, not knowing what to say. What did one say to that? _Really? Well, that's fabulous! I have a chance at living ten years longer than you! _Not.

So quick that Caleb even barely noticed, she inched away from him until they were no longer touching and orbed out then into the living room, where Pru was probably flirting with Pogue.

She was gonna have some hell to pay, Melinda thought spitefully.


	8. To Succumb

To Succumb

* * *

One minute, Pogue had been happily flirting with Pru while Reid and Tyler pretended to choke themselves in the background, then in the next, white and blue lights, like little balls, appeared and Melinda was standing there, frowning at Pru, looking the angriest he'd seen the little girl since the fight on their first meeting. The pair immediately quit blushing and giggling to glance up at her cousin quizzically.

"Min-Min?" Pru asked, sounding confused as to her cousin's presence. After all, the last the blonde knew was that she was cuddled up with her new best friend, Hottie McHotStuff, in her bedroom. "Is everything oka—."

"No! No, everything is _not _okay, Pru! Don't even try that nickname crap on me!"

The biker's jaw dropped. Melinda? Yelling? What was happening to this world? Even if he didn't know her that well, Melinda was a sweetheart girl. They don't yell. But, he'd thought the same of her mother before she went all crazy with the smashing and breaking of vases. Sweethearts may not yell, but the Halliwell women sure did.

He watched curiously as his crush's face swiftly changed emotions, ranging from enraged, to hurt, to nervous, to embarrassed, then finally, to piss scared. Pogue gulped. Pru obviously had seen Melinda angry before; maybe she wasn't such a sweetheart. If Pru was really that freaked by the tiny Melinda, then there was certainly something to fear in her short stature. However, he didn't know what, since he hadn't seen her powers. Yet.

"You _lied _to me," she growled in a low voice, eyes shooting daggers at Pru. Pogue felt the need to wrap his arm around the girl and protect her from the little demon Halliwell, but managed to refrain.

Tyler and Reid looked up from the cookies they'd stolen from the kitchen to watch curiously. Within seconds, they deduced that Melinda was fucking scary when she got pissed.

"I—I ... I just ..."

"You just _what_, Pru?" Melinda snapped cruelly, "Hmm? Cat got your lying, traitorous, sneaky tongue?"

And with that, Melinda raised her hands. To do what, he didn't know. That freezing thing, maybe? But it didn't work on him ... Or other witches. He wondered what the hell she was doing, and soon realized he honestly didn't want to know.

**.**

"Melinda," Pru began pleadingly as a vase exploded nearby, "Melinda, calm down! I'm _sorry!_" Pru screamed, practically begging her cousin. She did not want Melinda to blow something up near her _ever _again. After last time, that is. She managed to take a good chunk out of her shoulder. Chris was there to heal it, but still. That's besides the point, really, as it hurt like a bitch for a good fifteen minutes before he got there to heal it.

Thankfully, her cousin paused, only to look at her with an even murderous glare than before. "You're _sorry?_" she screeched, and her hands finally raised, flinging after every phrase to break something even more precious than the last broken item. "Sorry—." _Crash. _The lamp fell. "Doesn't—." _Bang. _The table was turned on it's side, flung backward into the wall. "Cut it!" _Crunch. _The china hutch fell _again _and landed on the table, effectively splintering it and breaking it further.

The three Sons watched in awe, startled but amazed that such a kind soul held so much fury and power inside of it. Pru just stood there, arms raised to shield her face from the blast.

"You _lied _to me!" Her hands flung again, numerous more times, until Pru just rolled her eyes. This was going a bit far, wasn't it? But the pouty witch seemed nowhere near stopping as she destroyed the living room.

"Peyton! Peyt, _help!_" Pru called out to the air, hoping _someone _would hear her and get anyone. Even if it wasn't Peyton, anyone that could stop Melinda without killing themselves would be helpful.

Orbing lights appeared and Pru sighed in resignation. Thank God. However, Melinda didn't seem to like the intrusion as much. She flung her hands at them and they scattered, only to reappear in a different place out of sight. A petite, tall blonde girl took their place, muttering furiously under her breath before flinging one of her hands at Melinda and causing the girl to fly back until she hit her head on the wall and got knocked out.

"Geez, couldn't one of you nimwits done that? I was in the _middle _of something."

Reid just snorted and looked the girl up and down as she fiddled with her clothes vainly, in hopes of straightening them out. Her lip gloss was smeared and there was already a red mark forming at the base of her throat.

"Middle, hm? Really must've been something," he jeered, happy to see her blush. She furiously turned away from him before advancing on Pru.

"What'd you do to her, anyway? You know her powers are based on emotion! You can't just set off a ticking time-bomb like that, it's dangerous."

Pogue muttered something that sounded highly similar to, "We realize that," but everyone ignored him.

""Oh, screw you! I didn't _do _anything! Besides, I'm not the one doing people, unlike you," Pru sneered, looking the girl up and down. "Does Billie know you're out with a guy right now? I'm sure she'd be curious. Auntie Bill—."

Peyton clapped her hand over Pru's mouth, her long fingers covering almost all of the girl's face. She glanced around nervously, as though expecting her adoptive mother to already have shown up. Billie Jenkins was two years shy of thirty and on the verge of overworking, if she wasn't already there. She didn't have much time for kids, or a relationship with anyone, but when she'd come across the young girl at magic school with no memories, she'd adopted her like _that. _They were all family now, and Peyton spent most of her time either at the manor with the Halliwells, or traveling with Billie, demon hunting.

"Don't! Please! She'll kill me. I swear, she acts like I'm _five _or something."

Pru snorted. "Close."

"I'm seventeen, P. Not cool. You're only a few days older than me."

"That's what you _think._"

The younger blonde girl sighed, and knowing she wouldn't be able to leave and get back to her boy of the day without Pru telling Billie, she threw herself down on the couch and eyed the Sons carefully, but wistfully. The blue-eyed brunette was _so_ cute ...

"Ahem," Reid fake-coughed at Pru, glancing pointedly in Peyton's direction.

"Oh! Sorry, guys, but this is Peyton," Reid looked the girl up and down thoroughly, however, she seemed to only have eyes for a certain brunette. "And Peyton, these are the guys: Reid and Tyler. They're here for Melinda's marriage-what's-it."

She hummed in reply, seeming to already know the background story, eyes intent on Tyler. The brunette in question shifted uncomfortably under her stare. Pru cackled at the pair, knowing Tyler was Peyton's newest victim and totally enjoying it.

"Melinda?" a deep voice called, causing Pru to grimace, along with the other Sons.

Caleb had come calling for his bride-to-be, only to find her unconscious.

They all blamed Reid, of course.

**.**

"Jesus H. Christ, you guys made a mess in here," Chris was saying hours later as they sat down for dinner.

Piper slapped the back of his head as she exited the room, exclaiming, "Language!"

"Well, Ma, he's right," Wyatt insisted, slouching down in the seat beside Melinda as Chris sat on her other side. "You saw it."

Caleb scowled at the seating arrangements but managed hide his displeasure quickly, although not before Pogue spotted it with a smirk. The eldest Son went to sit across from her but was cut off by Penny, accompanied by Pru and Peyton. He ended up sitting next to Wyatt with Tyler on his other side then Pogue and Reid at the opposite end of the table. Ty eyed the newest blonde arrival that was seated beside him warily, remembering the way she'd looked at him earlier—like a piece of meat she was ready to devour. It made him very uncomfortable, and he was not afraid to admit it.

The Charmed Ones and their respective husbands were seated in the kitchen, far from the hearing range of the dining room table. Almost everyone had gathered that Sunday night for family dinner, other than Henry, Pat, and Billie. It was no tradition, but everyone wished to meet the fated husband of Melinda and warn him of their wrath. She was the tiny family favorite, and if she was hurt by Caleb, he would be hurt. It was fact to them, law almost.

"_Sooo_, I heard about the freak out with your powers earlier," Chris segued into a conversation, "How's that going?"

Melinda silently sent her brother a telepathic 'thanks' and answered his conversation-starter. "Well, it was just the molecular combustion. Everything else was fine."

"Wait, you have _more _powers?" asked Reid, quite shocked. He'd only known she could blow things up and stop time—or something like that, anyway.

"Um, yeah. It's all family stuff; our powers are hereditary, sort of like yours, but more diverse. The three of us are telekinetic, though mine isn't nearly as strong is theirs," she said softly, gesturing to her brothers and herself, "I'm telepathic, I can create energy balls, immobilize molecules and orb—but not much else of the whitelighter stuff. My powers are still progressing, though; it's quite possible I could get another."

"What else _is _there?" the blond asked warily, glancing at her brothers, one of whom was _very _burly—more so than Pogue, by the looks of him—even without all those powers, Reid was willing to bet he could hold his own in a fight, taking everyone down swinging.

"For whitelighters?" Reid nodded and the other three Sons listened in curiously; this was the first they'd been outright told about powers, since none of them had wanted to ask, not knowing if it was rude to do so in a similar way to how Penny had not known if it was rude to ask a demon what level they were. "Well, everyone is a bit different, but the general are orbing, sensing, glamouring, and healing. Other than those, Wyatt's a pyrokinetic, and Chris is an empath."

"Wow. That's—that's a lot," he said, glancing at her brothers with a jealous look. Did their Power even compare to those? Not that he knew what half of them meant, anyway, but still; they had a bunch of variety from the sounds of it.

"What can you guys do with your Power?" Chris asked Caleb, having been curious since he'd first heard of it. He couldn't wait to fill out a few pages of the Book on them.

"Anything," Caleb said emphatically. He elaborated, "We can anything we want or desire, and there are no limits. It takes a toll, of course, but anything imaginable is possible."

"Oh, yeah? What about—what about mythical creatures, and stuff?" Penny asked curiously, finished stuffing her face with her favorite food—cranberry sauce.

The Danvers son suddenly grinned and looked at his brothers, most specifically Reid. "Definitely. After we had just received the Power we used to like to experiment with dares to see what we could do. Our families didn't approve of Using just for the sake of Using, so we usually _researched_ outside, in my backyard. Well, one day, Reid wanted a new pet, but he'd already had dogs, cats, and birds, and none held his interest. He Used and conjured a dragon to see if he could ..."

**.**

Melinda watched as his eyes lit up when he told stories about how things were when he was younger, a faint smile on her face. He seemed to love talking about his Power the most, and as the dinner wore on, it was almost all he could talk about. It was like he was talking about a lover, he was so passionate and connected with it. She couldn't help but wonder if he would ever talk about her that way, but the thought seemed almost sickening. Hadn't she been told their Power was Addictive and draining? Melinda didn't want to be either of those things to him.

In the end, Wyatt grew curious and asked for a show. Caleb, being the least Addicted, gave an example of the Power and everyone gasped when his eyes flashed black, but none were disturbed. The vase in the middle of the table filled with beautiful flowers, and Melinda couldn't help but smile as Caleb's eyes connected with hers over the table, as though he was telling her that the flowers were specifically for her.

He still felt bad for making her flip out earlier, and they hadn't had a chance to talk about it yet, since her parents came home right away.

**.**

"Why do you think you freaked earlier?" Chris asked casually as the three Halliwell siblings cleared the table together. Everyone else had gone into the parlor to talk, leaving them alone.

"Well, um—," Melinda began, knowing they'd go nuts if she told them truth. Wyatt's eyes connected with hers over the table, and just like that he knew she was about to lie. Damn powerful brother. "I'm still getting control over the molecular combustion. It's hard, and I was angry ... Plus the Sons' presence—it messes me up." What she said wasn't technically a lie. They really did mess her up!

"What do you mean?"

She sighed and set down her stack of dishes in the sink. "I can't freeze them. And I've got a sickening feeling that I can't blow them up, either."

Her brothers froze. "Are you sure it's not just your powers? They can't be—."

"I'm positive, Chris. It's _them._"

Wyatt swallowed and looked at her intently. "What kind of magic are they, again?"

"Dark," Phoebe said from the doorway. "The Sons of Ipswich have dark magic, full of lust, desire, and greed. To succumb to their Power means imminent death."

Her words and sudden appearance silenced them. Not many could avoid molecular immobilization, and even fewer had managed to get around molecular combustion. Witches weren't affected by the freezing sensation, but they could be blown up, sure. To have an immunity to both was to be very dark, indeed. Only Phoebe's ex, Cole, had ever been able to do so.

"Do you—D'you think they're dangerous, Aunt Pheebs?"

Phoebe Halliwell looked momentarily stunned. She thought about what to say next, and answered slowly and carefully. "I cannot answer that, Wyatt. I once thought that Chris was dangerous, all of us did." The group of four fell silent as they recalled why Chris had gone back in time, why he had to be so secretive to his relatives, though neither he nor Wyatt remembered the alternate versions of themselves that caused his actions. "Melinda, what do you think?"

"No, I would _never _say any one of them is dangerous, or ever would be. Caleb, Pogue, Reid, and Tyler are all kind, courteous, and polite in their own ways and would never harm anyone. I don't want to hear anyone even thinking about our safety while around them again," she replied sternly before marching off, forgetting all the dishes in the sink.

Little did she know how wrong she was, and how much she had to learn.

**.**

"I'm—I mean, are you angry with me? It's just a number. Seriously."

Melinda looked at Caleb with eyes full of doubt, reluctant to sit any closer to him and be swayed by his words. She'd situated herself a whole cushion away from the one he was seated on, watching her steadily. He always watched her. If it didn't make her feel so ... _Loved_, almost, she'd be unnerved by it.

"I'm not mad at you ... I'm just ... I don't know. I can't get mad at you for how_ old_ you are. That's completely nuts. It just ... It makes me uncomfortable. Ten years is a long time."

He sighed and put his head in his hands. Caleb didn't want to make her uncomfortable, _ever. _But it was better than not being around her at all, which made both of them crazy. "I'm so sorry, Melinda. Isn't there anything I can do to make it better?"

"Don't be sorry. It's not your fault I was born a little late," she said with a chuckle, her hand reaching out to him. She wanted to comfort him, make him stop feeling so guilty, but then she remembered why he was feeling guilty and stopped herself. Melinda couldn't bring herself to comfort the object of own discomfort. It just seemed wrong. "Tell me about yourself. I feel like I don't know anything about you, other than your age."

Caleb perked up considerably and leaned back against the cushions, stretching his arms behind him. One of his hands came to rest behind her head and he began to absently play with a curl. She didn't object, or didn't notice. "Well, what do you want to know? Obviously, I'm an only child. We all are."

"No, I want to know about _you_, Caleb. Not the others."

He smiled at her and thought for a minute. "Okay, well, I swam in high school. I was the captain for the team." She nodded and looked interested, so he continued more encouraged. "I went to Harvard and got my law degree. I work where my D—."

Melinda looked up at him, confused as to why he cut off. "Where your what? Dad?"

"Yeah," he responded, his voice taking on a weary tone, "My dad. He, um, he died on my eighteenth birthday."

A chill ran through her. His eighteenth birthday? Wasn't that the day he got all his Power—Ascended? "How?" she whispered, her mouth dry.

"For me. He died for me," Caleb looked over at her, and she could see the unshed tears making his eyes shine. "My mother, she asked him to give me his Power, and he agreed." When he noticed her confused expression, he continued. "Our Power is who we are. It's part of our being. After our eighteenth birthday, it becomes us. We become it. To give it away ..."

"Is to give up your own life," Melinda finished, and he nodded. "Why? Why'd he do it?"

He frowned and looked away again, trying to come up with the words. "Its a long story," he began, ready to leave it at that, but her face fell. "But, I'll tell you ... If you want." Melinda nodded and scooted closer to him, somehow knowing that he'd need her support. "There are five Sons of Ipswich, did you know that?"

"No ... What happened to the fifth?"

"He learned what it truly meant to succumb to our Power."

**.**

Pru sat on the stairs next to Peyton, listening in on the conversation intently. Pogue had mentioned something about this fifth Son, but he'd just brushed it off when she questioned him about it. They were rapt with attention, hanging on to his every word, trying to keep silent.

Pogue, Reid, and Tyler were sitting behind them, too, listening to their brother's retelling of that day's events. They'd heard it before, of course, but never from Caleb. Only Sarah, who had used it later as an excuse.

**.**

"... And then I killed him. The barn burned to the ground, and no body was found, but no one could have survived that. I killed Chase Collins."


	9. Someday

Someday

**

* * *

**

"I—I'm so ... I'm so sorry," Melinda said, her soft voice breaking as she repeated the phrase once more.

Everyone within earshot looked up sharply at her, confused. She was _sorry_? Sorry that their treacherous brother was murdered, and they were saved? They weren't _sorry. _If anything, they were thankful.

Caleb also glanced up at her, having a different reaction to her words entirely. "What? Why?"

"Because ... You had to _kill _someone, Caleb," she spoke quietly, so softly that only he could hear. "I know what that's like—the feeling of having someone's blood on your hands ..." she glanced down at their intertwined fingers, as if there would be blood on them now, but none was to be seen. "Knowing you ended a life, even if it was for the best—it's, well, it's terrible. It's disgusting, and it's wrong and I'm sorry you had to do it."

He nodded at her, fully comprehending her words, as though he'd experienced everything she'd described. "Yeah," he whispered softly, so quiet in his deep, rumbling voice that the sound only reached Melinda's ears. "It does suck."

More was obviously on his mind, especially after those heavily loaded words, but neither spoke again. The crowd on the stairwell dispersed into the kitchen, with new information to discuss.

**.**

As Pogue stretched his long legs out down the hall on the way to the kitchen, he felt a tug on his right arm before being pulled into the hall closet. He was about to say something when a small, warm and soft hand clamped over his mouth.

"Sh. It's just me, so if you scream like a girl I'll tell Tyler and Reid."

He rolled his eyes and easily pried her hand off his lips, but didn't release it. "Yeah, Pru, I know it's you." She raised a doubting eyebrow at his statement, but he snorted. "You seriously think I'd let just anyone pull me into a dark closet? I'm not stupid, and I'm definitely strong enough to get away if I wanted."

"Oh, so you're saying you _allowed _me to pull you in, like it was your choice?" There was a distinct hitch of anger in her voice, but he didn't quite catch it.

"Well, yeah. But I'm here."

Pru growled softly and smacked him upside the head, clicking on the overhead light as she did so. "Oh,'cause you're just _so _strong, and _so _powerful; I'm just _so _weak, you just knew it was me, right?"

"Hey, I didn't mean it like that!"

"Of course not, stupid boy. You never do."

She glared at him in silence, but his eyes playfully drooped into a puppy's beg, his lower lip jutting out for good measure. Pru scoffed and looked away. "Put that away, Pogue, before you hurt yourself."

He grinned, she giggled, and all was fine again. Then, Pru broke the easy silence that had filled the gap in their fight. "You never told me you guys had to kill someone ..."

"_I _didn't kill anyone," he said softly, eyes focusing on a spot just above her head as he recalled the events that led up to Chase's death; absently, his fingers traced a scar on the inside of his palm from the incident—his supposed motorcycle crash and endeavor with Kate in the hospital. "Besides, I haven't told you a lot of things."

Pru frowned. Not only was Pogue acting funny, but now he was admitting to not telling her things? This couldn't end well. It didn't matter that they'd only known each other for less than two weeks, or that they hadn't spoken a whole lot in that time—it was just that ... Well, Pru didn't know what it was, but she didn't like it; and she couldn't even complain about it, since it was completely irrational. "Will you ever tell me them?"

"Tell you what?"

"Those things—the things you haven't yet told me."

Pogue looked back down at her, his hard, cold eyes warming as they met hers. He nodded and squeezed the hand he'd held captive within his own. "Yeah, someday."

She smiled. They were going to have a 'someday'! It sounded silly, but Pru always wanted to have that with a guy—when he'd say someday; as in, there would _be_ someday ... Even if it wasn't that day, that week, that month, or even that year ... He would tell her everything _someday. _Like they might be together long enough for their to be a someday. Someday far off, when everything was perfect and she wasn't living at home anymore ... Someday.

**.**

"You love them, right?" Melinda asked softly, nodding at the retreating backs of Pogue, Tyler, and Reid.

Caleb glanced up in time to see them turn the corner. His jaw unclenched quickly, the tense knots from Chace's story loosening as their presence invaded his mind. His brothers; they were there for him. Melinda, too; she was there for him now. "Like my own brothers."

She nodded. "D'you think it was because you knew them so well, or because of how the whole Sons of Ipswich thing tied you together?"

He looked at her, confused, but answered regardless. "Mixture of both, I guess. Why're you asking?"

"Wouldn't it be the same with Chase, then?"

Caleb froze. "What? Chase.. As a brother?" Melinda nodded. He still didn't move. The idea had crossed his mind before, but he'd pushed it away; he felt terrible about Chase's murder because it was just that—a _murder. _And it made him a murderer. Not because he was guilty, or anything ... "No. Never."

Melinda shivered at his cold words, his tone so harsh and cruel it felt like it burned her skin. She hoped that he'd never use that tone against her.. "Are you, um, sure?" The girl didn't want to push him, but it made sense; Melinda knew _exactly _what it was like to have to kill a sibling—better than most people thought. Caleb wasn't the only one with secrets about a 'brother's death. "I know what it's like, Caleb ... It's okay if you do—."

"How? How could you possibly know what it's like—to murder your own brother; to even have a brother so evil that you actually wanted him dead, and were willing to kill him yourself?"

She glanced up at him with watery, glossy eyes. Caleb immediately softened, realizing his mistake. Maybe she _did _know what it was like. "Oh ... I didn't know."

"N—no. It's not your fault. Not many people do," Melinda said quietly, her sweet voice rough with heartache as she shifted ever so slightly away from the elder man. He watched her do so, feeling his own heart squeeze itself tight—he had hurt her, something he _never _wanted to do ever again. It hurt him, too.

The tiny girl that sat beside him wiped her eyes and opened her mouth, readying herself to speak. He shook his head. "No, you don't ... You don't have to tell me now. Just tell me someday, okay?"

She smiled a watery, very fake smile up at him. "Deal. Someday."

.

Phoebe watched her nieces and daughters carefully from her spot in the attic, her eyes closed as she focused her 'inner eye'—as Paige had so affectionately named it after realizing her sister was a possible peeping tom—on them. Her sisters sat beside her, vying for information. She shushed them, paying curious attention to the separated groups.

Melinda and her—well, whatever he was—Caleb were sitting in the living room, their backs to the rest of the world as they paid utter attention on each other. The Charmed Ones nor the Elders had expected this; their 'Arranged' Halliwell to fall in love—or as much as they could be as of yet—with her husband-to-be even before they were married. Was it part of the deal? They didn't know, and were quite curious to find out.

The arrangement was nothing more than a contract on two descendants, right? Well, that's what the two magical groups had previously thought. However, it didn't seem to be just the one pair. As more and more of their children met these 'Sons of Ipswich', more and more became paired off. None of their bonds were as visibly strong to Phoebe as Caleb and Melinda's, but there were still some there, and even one or two she couldn't quite make out yet.

Pogue and Pru, for one.

None of the Halliwells had expected them to meet, or even like each other, they'd just wanted Melinda to be given a little push towards Caleb, and Pru had arrived in the form of just that. Her automatic chemistry with the biker was just convenient. Pru had dragged Melinda along as she connected with Pogue, forcing Melinda to talk to Caleb. The Halliwell sisters hadn't objected when Pru and Pogue's bond began to form; Phoebe herself could see it, a white-pink strand that attached them together. It wasn't nearly as thick as Melinda's bond to Caleb, or even as dark-colored.

She assumed that this was because their bond was pre-destined; the Arrangement itself was a very powerful thing and bound them together tightly. Their bond was made of tightly wound blue-black ropes, streaked with golden strands intertwined. It was beautiful to see, and quite magical. As an empath, Phoebe was allowed to see all these things, just as her husband Coop could see their budding love for one another, regardless if they themselves knew it or not.

However, there were two bonds that Coop failed to see; two bonds that Phoebe could see as clear as day. Even before Peyton arrived, Pheebs sensed something about the other two Sons—the tall, gangly blond that never shut up and the sweet-eyed brunette—that was just ... Missing. Like they hadn't been completed yet. It confused her until her adoptive niece arrived; Peyton took one look at that Tyler boy and their bond practically _glowed _to life. It was a soft shade of mint green, like a pastel, and wound from his heart directly to hers. Obviously, it was thinner and less developed than Pogue and Pru's, but it was still visible.

The bonds gave Phoebe hope for her younger sister that wasn't quite a sister, Billie Jenkins, who had became part of the family as soon as she became Paige's charge. She was no longer a charge, and used her whitelighter/witch powers for demon-hunting, the all-American pastime favorite of the Halliwells. Billie had Peyton, her 'daughter' with her at almost all times, and treated her like her own child, despite the fact that they were more like sisters because of their ten-year difference in age. She acted quite old for a twenty-seven year old, and was always the 'responsible one'. It was her strength, and her weakness. Phoebe watched for years as Billie never had fun. She never dated, never fell in love, and never hooked up with a one-night stand. The middle Charmed One questioned her husband endlessly about Billie's love life—why didn't she have a Cupid? Would she ever fall in love? But he would just shake his head and say her fate was complicated, unknown. That didn't comfort Phoebe at all.

But now, Phoebe realized just how 'complicated' things could get—an ancient contract demanding their daughters produce stronger, more powerful heirs with another coven. Despite the fact that Billie wasn't really family, she could be part of the Arrangement—couldn't she? She could fall for that devious, sneaky blond—Reid. All Phoebe had to do now was wait for them to meet, then everyone would be matched. It would be perfect.

**.**

"Soo ..." Reid stated awkwardly, tapping his fingers on his chin as he looked Peyton over.

"So, what?" she snapped, annoyed with him. He'd been staring at her all night, taking advantage of the fact that her shirt was a little low, and her skirt were a little short. It was really starting to get on her nerves, and combined with the fact that the cute brunette hadn't said two words to her all night and might even have been _avoiding _her, Peyton just wasn't in the best of moods.

He laid his hands on the table, palm-down, fingers splayed, and leaned forward so that only she could hear him. "Wanna go make out?"

"With you? No."

The tall blond leaned back in his chair, his face scrunched up in a frown. Why wouldn't she make out with him? It's not like there was anyone else all that great here, just him and—oh. Realization hit him easily, and he slouched. He let his eyes follow those of the girl across the table from him to his brunette friend. Tyler was distracted, playing some stupid board game with the obnoxious little girl that _really _didn't like Reid at all. He had no clue why, but ever since Peyton arrived Penny had been glaring at them and had become quite taken with the youngest Son.

Peyton glanced back at Reid and he nodded his head in his friend's direction. "Tyler, huh?"

"What are you talking about, Blondie?" she asked, eyes narrowed. Despite her strong exterior, her insides were bubbling. Was she that obvious? Surely not. It's not like she'd been staring or anything ... Right? Her voice wavered a little.

Reid grinned. "Nothing, nothing at all." His voice lowered as he spoke his next words, leaning forward again. "Y'know, he's really shy. It's not that he doesn't like you, it's just that he's embarrassed."

"Really?" Peyton looked back at Tyler. He looked up, their eyes met, and he quickly looked away, blushing. "Um, thanks."

"No prob."

He watched the blonde girl get up, tap Tyler on the shoulder, then motion for him to follow her. Reid's fists clenched under the table, though he had no clue why. Did he honestly care what this girl did? Nope. Then why had he been so nice to her? He didn't know, and it only aggravated him further.

Penny plopped down across the table from him, bringing her game with her. She smiled. "Wanna play?"

"Nope."

She frowned. "Well, why not? It's not like you have anything else to do."

"Look, kid, I just don't want to."

"I'm not a kid!"

He scoffed. "Yeah, you _are. _What are you, twelve?" He asked, purposefully guessing as young as possible.

"No. I'm fifteen, idiot."

Reid frowned. She was fifteen? He looked her over once. Twice. Now that she mentioned it, she _did _look fifteen. How odd. "If you're fifteen, why are you playing board games and acting like a little kid all the time?"

Her cheeks flushed. "Well, I don't know. I guess—I don't know, okay?" she looked away, somewhat nervously, and fidgeted in her chair. "Will you play, now?"

"No." He stood up. All her fidgeting was putting him on edge.

"You're really mean, you know that?"

"Yeah. I don't really care."

Then he just walked away, telling himself that he didn't care. Because, honestly, he didn't. Why would he care what a fifteen-year-old girl thought of him? He wouldn't. So why, he wondered, did he want to go back and play a board game with her so she wouldn't think he was so mean anymore?

**.**

"So, um, what's up?" Tyler asked nervously, crossing his arms over his chest. He cleared his throat, more to give him some confidence than to actually clear it. It's not like there was anything gross in there anyways.

She didn't answer right away. Peyton just sort of looked at him, with those big blue eyes. It was a little off-putting, to say it mildly. He shifted again under her gaze.

Why did she ask him to come in here, again? _I need to talk to you._ Whatever that meant. All Ty knew was that ever since she'd arrived, he hadn't been comfortable at the Halliwell's house. He felt awkward and exposed whenever she looked at him; it was like she looked right _through _him, and just knew what he was thinking. It was unnerving.

Peyton swallowed. She had to answer him sometime. Her eyes roamed over him again, and spotted a tear in his shirt as he shifted. It must've happened when Min-Min went all crazy. A light bulb lit in her brain; she knew what to say. "You have a hole," she paused, swallowing again. His eyes bugged out of his sockets, and she blushed, pointing at his stomach. "In your shirt, I mean."

"Oh." He glanced down and rubbed his fingers over the fabric. Yup, there was definitely a tear there; he could just Use to fix it. "I guess I do."

She stepped closer and took the fabric in her hands, being careful not to accidentally brush his skin. He almost jumped and pulled back, but caught himself in time to stop. It's not like she was going to eat him, or anything ... She just wanted to see his hole. In his shirt.

"I can fix it."

Tyler agreed, deciding it would probably be better not to Use if he didn't have to.

Twenty minutes later, he was sitting on the counter, trying to relax and not get poked, and she was standing between his legs, working at the rip in the cloth with a needle and thread. Ty tried not to move if it wasn't necessary; the position they were in was awkward enough. Her aunt Phoebe had already walked through the room smiling to herself—not quite the reaction he was expecting. And then, every time she would pull the needle through, she would accidentally catch his skin. It _hurt_ and he kept jumping, bumping his chest against her face. He blushed every time.

"Couldn't you have just used magic to fix it?" he asked rather impatiently.

Peyton's fingers stilled. Why hadn't she thought of that before? She was so stupid. She swallowed, trying to come up with an answer other than the always obvious _I wanted to be close to you_. That same light bulb from earlier dinged again. "Personal gain, duh."

"Huh?"

Oh, that's right, Peyton realized, recalling what Melinda had mentioned about the differences of their powers. He didn't have personal gain; he didn't use magic. He used witchcraft and Power—whatever that was. Peyton figured it was something demonic, and was quite glad Billie wasn't present. "Um, it's like, when you do something for yourself, instead of for the greater good ... Things backfire." She tried to come up with a good example, since he still didn't seem to quite get it, but there really weren't any that weren't embarrassing.

She swallowed and prepared herself for a story. "This one time, I created a spell for my homework to do itself. I usually wouldn't have done something like that, but Billie wanted it turned in by noon and I wanted to go hang out with Pru. So, I turn it in, and it looked perfectly written in my handwriting and everything. When she gave it back to me, I got a zero because it was written in a different language—one that didn't exist."

He smiled. Personal gain didn't sound so bad; just like magic's practical jokes.

"Well, you know what, I wouldn't have poked you so much if you would have just taken it off!" she growled at him, poking him once on purpose.

Tyler's face flushed with embarrassment as he sighed and complied to her demands, pulling the fabric over his head and handing it to her. The only down side from not getting poked in the stomach was ... He wasn't wearing anything underneath. It's not like he was fat, or didn't work out, or was overly hairy or anything ... He just felt even more exposed without it. He figured she would stare of drool or do that thing girls do.. But, she didn't.

To her credit, Peyton only glanced at his chest once or twice, finished sewing up his shirt, then walked right out of the room. However, he didn't see the huge smile on her face as her back was to him.

She didn't ogle his chest or make a bigger fool out of herself than she already had for one reason. Peyton knew, she just _knew_, that someday, she'd get a chance to stare/ogle/drool over/touch his perfectly sculpted abs/chest all she wanted.

And she couldn't wait for that day.

* * *

**AN: **Very fluffy, again, I know ... But it's romance. It's bound to be fluffy from time to time, especially since it won't always be fluffy like this.


	10. Sour Grapes

Sour Grapes

**

* * *

**

It was getting late, almost nine o'clock on Sunday evening, but the Sons of Ipswich were still gathered in the manor. Piper, Phoebe, and Paige stood in the parlor, waiting for the excess family members to leave so their informal meeting could go on as planned—or rather, _un_planned, since it was spur of the moment. Paige had calmly gone from room to room as the evening wore on, inviting certain people to stay, while others were requested to leave by nine sharp.

Other than the three sisters and the Sons, no Halliwell males remained in the Manor. Leo took Chris, Wyatt, Henry, and Pat out to who knows where; Coop had some Cupid-business to attend to and Henry Sr. was working. Billie hadn't arrived, but she wasn't expected to. Pru and Peyton were gossiping in Melinda's room, Penny was no doubt eavesdropping, and Melinda herself was waiting in the kitchen to be called upon.

She vaguely felt like a child or student in trouble, just waiting to be told, 'Oh! Guess what? It _isn't _Caleb you're marrying. It's Pogue.' Or worse, _Reid. _Melinda had to suppress a shudder at that. But really, it _would _be some sick, sadistic magical joke that after everything that had happened between them, all the time they'd spent talking, she'd end up with someone other than Caleb. It's not like it really mattered, though. She didn't have feelings for him, or anything—did she? Melinda wasn't sure. He was ten years older than her, a nice guy, and was seemingly genuine, but ...

Did she even know him that well? _Yes, _her inner conscience told her; she did know Caleb.

And yes, she'd most definitely rather marry Caleb than any of the other Sons.

Not that anything was wrong with the others, of course. Pogue was cool and collected, laid back; Ty was sweet and shy; and Reid was.. Well, _Reid. _He was funny, sarcastic, vulgar, rude and perverted, but no one seemed to mind too much; he lightened things up.

It was just that everyone was already paired up. Pru and Pogue sort of had some weird thing going on between them, and Peyton had it out for Tyler bad. And Reid ... If Melinda hadn't known any better, she'd say that Penny was developing a crush for the blond. Those matches left her and Caleb over, since she wasn't going to steal someone else's guy.

At least, Melinda hoped she didn't have to claim someone else's Son.

**.**

"I feel like I'm about to be interviewed by my girlfriend's mom ..." Pogue muttered under his breath lamely, not even realizing how spot-on his words were.

"Well, _duh. _It's 'cause you are, you idiot," Reid retaliated, smacking his brother upside the head. The biker's own arm soon shot out to catch the blond, but Tyler quickly intervened, hoping to save them from another all-out brawl.

Caleb just ignored the group. His eyes were clearly focused on the door to the kitchen, where he just _knew _Melinda would be waiting. She loved the kitchen and he'd caught her fiddling with the stove's knobs more than once. Like all the other Halliwells, the use of any active kitchen appliance was off-limits to Melinda without supervision—only Piper used them. Previously having been a chef, Piper was very meticulous with her kitchen. She cooked three square meals a day, with snacks and desserts in between, but there were never any leftovers.

Similar to her mother, the Danvers Son had a gnawing feeling that Melinda had an affinity for the art of cooking, as well as a love for it.

"You know," Tyler began, "You spend too much time Melinda-ing than must be healthy."

"Melinda-ing?" Caleb questioned the foreign word.

Reid snorted, comeback always on hand. "Yeah. Either you're with her, talking to her, she's in hearing/viewing/smelling distance, you're _thinking _about her or you're talking about her. It's like one giant Melinda-overload."

A Melinda-overload? Impossible. Caleb could never get enough of Melinda, _never. _She was like a thirst she couldn't quench; a hunger he couldn't satisfy. He craved to know everything and anything about her—he wanted to know it all. Another part of him wanted her to want to know all about him, too, but he knew that could take some time. She had been reluctant and withdrawn when they first met, and she had only getting a little better since then. Despite their rush to get married, he knew they would have to take it slow.

However, the more he thought about his need to know all about her, the less he could disagree with the blond. Perhaps Reid was right; he was overloading on all things Melinda—but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. In the beginning, when his mother first broke the news to him, he was very curious. In fact, Evelyn had gathered the Sons in a similar fashion to this night ...

**.**

_"Mother, this is the first time in years I haven't had to think about what needs to be done for school. Please just give us time to relax," Caleb rudely suggested to his mother as she entered the room with a worried look on her face. He didn't want to deal with her right now, he had time to deal with her petty problems later if it was necessary._

_The other Sons were shocked by his abrupt words, despite feeling felt the same. After spending twenty-three years of their twenty-eight year old lives in school, they were finally finished. They could take a break, truly relax, and goof around. Their lives were finally starting—taking over their father's businesses, preparing to be lawyers and entrepreneurs. Soon, they would inherit the family money, and they wouldn't even need to work; all that the time they spent in college was for their families, to meet the expected standard._

_For now, though, it was time to relax. Evelyn should've understood—she saw all the cranky, overly worked boys that came home for the school holidays. Those boys were finally gone; now, they were men._

_But, she didn't. Instead, she huffed angrily and exchanged her worried facial expression for a tense, frustrated one. "Time is of the essence, Caleb, and you do not have much of it."_

_He raised an eyebrow. What was she talking about? They had their entire lives ahead of them—time aplenty for those that didn't Use often._

_"You have two weeks to find the woman to whom you are betrothed, or we shall all die," she said effectively, hoping to get right to the point and shock him into movement. He really did need to get a move on, there wasn't much time left._

_Her statement was met with utter silence and disbelief. Caleb even briefly wondered if his beloved mother had finally fallen off her rocker. It was high time, really. She was past fifty. "And why must I do this?" he asked gently, not wanting to come off rude again. Perhaps he could locate the source of her worries and it would be faux; it wouldn't be the first time. Evelyn had once been convinced that all the Sons would be married by twenty-two, since all of the previous generation was._

_Surprise, surprise—none of them were married, and they were all very far above twenty-two._

_"Because," she ground out, even further aggravated by his lack of trust in her words. When had she ever led him astray? Never. "I was looking through your father's old books, and one—a journal—written by John Putnam records a pact made with a witch, promising their two lines to culminate in marriage."_

_Okay, he could buy that a little more. He'd ask for the record later just to be sure, though. "Marriage? I don't even know any other witches, Mother, and neither do you."_

_"Yes, but your ancestors do. See?" She produced the journal and held it up, pointing to the apparent pact. "There are the families' signatures: Danvers, Simms, Garwin, Parry, and Putnam. And here ..." Her slim, aged finger traced down the page to stop just below a curved, loopy signature. "Charlotte Warren. She agreed to have the eldest daughter of the Halliwell line marry the eldest of the Sons of Ipswich when she reached eighteen."_

_Caleb had to admit, this was looking awfully fool-proof. He was starting to believe, especially since he recognized the signatures of the five families from seeing them frequent the pages of the Book of Damnation. However, the legitimacy of John Putnam's words was not enough to lead him in._

_"But why would they all agree to that? What purpose would the pact serve?" Tyler questioned, ending the silence between Caleb's three best friends._

_Evelyn frowned. She had not thought they would question her this much.. "Putnam was their leader. He longed for more Power, greed, and wealth. The arrangement states that the combining of the covens would bring great Power, and if he could get Power for his future children, he would."_

_"What about the woman—Charlotte? I doubt that any witch would wish to give John Putnam more than necessary; even an outsider could have recognized he was evil," Caleb stated._

_"It doesn't elaborate on her reasons ... But, it does make a note that John promised to help protect her line. Apparently, she was the head of an all-female line of women to be born, all dying before their daughters could grow up. They were most often accused of witchery. She probably wanted to ensure that they would not all die out."_

_The group pondered her words momentarily, thinking over Charlotte's reasons. Reid was the first to notice the flaw. "If her line was all-female, how could she already know the name of the girl's family? Wouldn't the name have changed by marriages over time?"_

_Mrs. Danvers shrugged. "Maybe she could see the future."_

_Reid snorted, Caleb half-smiled, Ty rolled his eyes, and even Pogue laughed at that. Right, seeing the future—what kind of joke was that? It was impossible. Everyone knew that, even witches like themselves._

**.**

Caleb smiled at the memory—a witch that could see the future. He'd once believed that it was improbable, inconceivable even, but now he realized that nothing was impossible—for witches. The Halliwell family was proof of that. He was willing to bet a pretty penny that one of them could see the future.

If he ever encountered a witch that could foretell his future, Caleb once would've asked who he would marry. Not how he would die, how old he would live, or what he would accomplish, but who he would marry. He once assumed it would be Sarah, but that hope quickly vanished. Now, would it be Melinda Halliwell? Caleb was unsure. He'd been so curious to find out who he would marry before he arrived at the Halliwell Manor. But then, he met Melinda.. And all his cares for the knowledge quickly vanished. He figured she would be his future wife, despite what Pogue had originally said about Pru.

But, then ... Then Paige and the sisters called their little meeting. It was no doubt to discuss the ancient deal. What if they revealed that Pru was his betrothed, not Melinda? Caleb's eyes darkened uncontrollably at the unacceptable thought. He would not allow himself to be torn from the tiny, beautiful brunette, regardless of the consequences.

Pogue looked up sharply at the clock and growled at Reid who proceeded to mock him for his nervousness. "Jeez, Poguey Boy, chill." The Biker just growled again.

"Aww, c'mon, stop bein' such a sour grape," the younger blond said, shoving his brother gently with a relaxed smile. Despite Reid's rough exterior and harsh, sarcastic words, he could be a softy to people he cared about.

The clock tolled nine o'clock sharp—time for their meeting. His palms grew sweaty and clammy, nervous for reasons unknown to himself. Pogue was right—he felt like he was about to be interviewed to find out his value to their daughter, whichever one she may be.

"Caleb, c'mon," Tyler said, hurrying his brothers along. Caleb let his original eye color return and followed them into the Manor's parlor, not quite ready to be questioned.

**.**

Phoebe smiled welcomingly as the fearsome foursome entered the parlor and motioned for them to take seats on the couch across from her and her sisters. They did as requested, and she couldn't help but smile a little more—they were already acquiescing; that must be a good sign. Things would turn out okay, she just knew it.

The youngest of the three sisters, Paige, grinned helplessly. Despite the dire situation the future wedding would take place in—really, an _arranged _marriage; so uncool—she couldn't help but notice how hot these guys were. She was female, she could look, take notice of their attractiveness. At least they weren't ugly. She would have cute grandbabies! That's all that really mattered. Besides, the girls seemed pretty fond of these guys, it's not like they would be completely loveless marriages. There would be love eventually—Phoebe predicted happy endings for all of them, even if it did sound cheesy.

The Sons couldn't help but notice that the sisters didn't seem too upset about the arrangement any longer. Sure, they all felt that way when it started, but it wasn't too bad anymore. Phoebe, Pru and Penny's mom, was smiling; Paige, the mother of Henry and Pat—who Reid and Ty thought were totally awesome, even if they got their butts whooped while playing the newest Call of Duty—was grinning uncontrollably; the only one that didn't seem too happy about all of this, was the mother of the heart of the Arrangement, Melinda's mom, Piper. Caleb was not excited to note her glower, which was directed in full force upon all of them. He'd witnessed her wrath upon her sons, and even on the vases, but against himself? Never.

Why was she so unhappy now? Even in the beginning, she'd tried to be nice. But Piper couldn't help it any longer. She'd put on a strong front for her daughter, hoping that Melinda would be able to go through this as best as she could, but honestly? After seeing Melinda's breakdown—what else would you call locking yourself away, refusing to eat, sleep or do magic?—the eldest Halliwell had let that faux shield go.

These boys hurt her baby, their ancestors hurt her, her _own _ancestors hurt her—was there anything left to fix? The only thing that stopped Piper from just giving up the whole pact was the way she saw her daughter look at the eldest Son, Caleb. She looked at him with a warmth Piper had reflected in her own eyes when her and Leo had first started out. It was shocking to see, but it gave her hope—hope for Melinda's future with him. She was still pretty pissed, though.

"Hey, guys," Paige smiled again, "It's great to see you all again."

Caleb and the others nodded back wordlessly, still confused as to what this meeting was about; it could only be about the arrangement, right? There wasn't much time left. It had almost been two weeks since they were first told ...

"Well, this isn't awkward at all ..." Phoebe coughed as Piper elbowed her side, showing their loving sisterly affections. "Tomorrow's the day."

Pogue looked up sharply. Tomorrow? He hadn't realized they'd already spent a week there ... He recounted the days; yep, today was Sunday. Tomorrow would be Monday—the day of Pru and Melinda's birthday, the day they would have to be married. Well, not _him. _Caleb. Caleb and Melinda ... Or Pru ... He frowned. That would suck—his best friend and the girl he ... The girl he liked. That's what Pru was; she was the girl he liked.

Piper cleared her throat. "Caleb—you're the oldest, correct?" He nodded at her. "Yes, that's what I thought ... Oh, we were thinking that Grams, I mean, our grandmother, could perform the ... The ..." she trailed off, the upcoming word sounding foreign and wrong to her mouth.

"Ceremony," he supplied helpfully, skipping over the words marriage and wedding entirely.

"Yes, that's what I meant," she began, "We can summon her for her to perform the vows. Do you have anyone you need to be here?"

He shook his head. He didn't have any friends that he would've invited to a closed ceremony, other than the Sons. And his mother was back in Ipswich.

She frowned. "What about your family?"

"My father passed away ten years ago."

"My condolences. What about your mother? Isn't she coming?"

"Oh, no, since we're going back to Ipswich after the ... The ceremony—."

Piper held her hand up, silently interrupting his explantation. Ipswich? Massachusetts? They were going all the way across the country? "You're going back to Ipswich?" she asked, uncertain of the words even as she said them aloud.

The four Sons exchanged glances. "Of course we're going back. We live there." Their title was, after all, the Sons of _Ipswich._

She was stunned. They were going to take her baby all the way across the country; they really were. Phoebe squeezed her hand sympathetically and took over the conversation, turning it in a different direction. She'd seen the Ipswich thing coming, but it wasn't any of their business where the new married couple would live. "_Okay_, why don't we save that discussion for later?"

Caleb nodded emphatically and agreed. "Sure—."

"Wait. I don't think that's such a good idea."

He frowned. "Why not? Ipswich is safe."

"That's not the point. Would she be happy there? We live here. It's so far away ..."

"Yeah," Pogue began, speaking up for the first time. "But not all of you live here. Pru's enrolled in NYU—she's starting this fall."

"And Peyton is—." Tyler started, but Paige cut him off.

She furrowed her brow, looking between the four of them and her sisters. "Wait a minute. Who are we talking about, here, exactly?"

No one spoke. The Sons didn't say anything because they didn't exactly know who they were talking about. Melinda? Or Pru? And for whatever reason, Ty brought up Peyton, even though she didn't really have anything to do with the conversation at all.

Suddenly, Phoebe started laughing, shocking everyone in the room. What the hell was she doing? _Laughing_, while they were trying to discuss a marriage? This was serious business, even Reid knew that. Piper shot her sister a dirty look, and Phoebe cut off her laughter into semi-quiet chuckles here and there. "I'm sorry, but are you telling me that none of you have any idea who Caleb is getting married to tomorrow?"

"Well, I wouldn't say we don't have _any _idea ..." Reid muttered, rolling his eyes as he thought of Melinda and Caleb getting all ooey-gooey on the couch earlier.

His response just made her laugh even harder. "Are you _serious_?" She took the silence she was met with as an emphatic 'yes'. "Oh, wow ... Why didn't you just ask? Not that it's that hard to figure out ... There's really only two choices.." Phoebe trailed off, realizing the reason why Caleb and Pogue had been so sullen and unsure to begin with. Had they really not known?

The eldest Son shifted uneasily, wanting, no _needing _for her to just tell him he would marry Melinda the next day.

As if she could hear his thoughts, Phoebe reached forward and took Caleb's hand with a smile. "Melinda," she murmured softly, just loud enough for him to hear and smile right back at her.

**.**

She checked the clock for what felt like the hundredth time that hour, and groaned. It was only quarter past, and even then just barely. How could time pass her by so slowly? To Melinda, it felt like _ages _since Paige had first told her niece to wait for the meeting's end in the kitchen, when in reality it was only twenty or thirty minutes ago. The meeting between the Sons and the Charmed Ones had only started fifteen minutes ago—she checked the clock again, and this time she was on the dot—but there was not a sound to be heard. She knew this for a fact because she'd pressed her ear to the crack between the door and the frame.

Nope, still no sounds. Perhaps it wasn't because they weren't talking, but because the parlor was two rooms away from the kitchen, past the dining room and opposite the entrance hall. Perhaps.

"Mmm ..." she groaned and sat back on the floor before standing and hoisting herself up onto the center island's counter, picking at the fruit bowl of grapes. They were a bit sour for her taste, and her face involuntarily scrunched up as she let out a firm, high-pitched squeak of disgust.

"Oh, really?"

Melinda whipped around, almost falling off the counter top in her haste, to see Caleb leaning against the door frame, the door shut behind him. She blushed when she realized she'd been caught and swallowed the grape she'd been chewing, albeit hesitantly. "Um, yeah? How'd the meeting go?"

He shrugged and stepped further into the kitchen, pulled out one of the island's bar stools and sat down on it. "It was okay, I guess." She scooted over to make room for him and offered him some of the sour fruit, which he took and promptly ate, only to make the exact scrunched up face she had. "That's _sour_."

"Yeah," she chuckled, decidedly setting aside the grapes for later. "What did you, um ... What was it about?"

"The meeting?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, the meeting." God, Melinda felt like she was pulling his teeth to get some answers! Couldn't he just tell her that—.

"The wedding tomorrow." His words cut her thoughts off and startled her, causing her to choke as she swallowed another grape. He looked at her, concerned, but she just shook her head; he really shouldn't have sprung the word 'wedding' on her like that—there's bound to be dire consequences, i.e. choking on sour grapes. "Piper said your Grams is performing the ceremony ..."

The brunette girl nodded hastily. Yes, yes, she already knew all of that—what about _after_? What didn't she know that he did? She just wanted to know if it was Caleb she would be marrying, or someone else—hopefully not Reid. Tyler wouldn't be so bad ...

He opened his mouth to tell her about the whole Ipswich thing, then shut it again. He could tell her about that later ... No need to cause problems just yet. Unfortunately, she already saw his mouth open and close, as if he were to speak, and questioned him about it. Caleb hurried to figure something out to tell his wife-to-be. "Phoebe. Your aunt ... Phoebe. She um, she ... Well, none of us were really sure ... And you guys never came out and explicitly said ... I just assumed, and ... Hoped ..." he trailed off, hoping he'd made sense, but knowing he hadn't, all the while realizing he didn't have the balls to come right out and say it.

"_What_? You're making no sense, Caleb. Just spit it out."

A deep feeling of complacency spread through him, and just like that, he could tell her. Was that all it took? For his betrothed to say his name, and he would instantly spill his guts to her and offer himself up? Apparently so; perhaps it was part of the arrangement, he theorized. "I wasn't sure who was the oldest—you or Pru—so I wasn't sure who I'd be marrying tomorrow ... None of us were, really. Pogue was worried."

Caleb smirked at the last bit; Pogue _had _been worried, whether he mentioned it or not, he did _not _want the girl he had a thing for to marry his best friend.

"Were you?" she asked, looking up at him momentarily before catching his gaze and glancing away with a red stain to her cheeks. How could she even ask that? She had been worried, she'd even been nervous, scared. But, if she'd heard him right ... Caleb had just said _I'd be marrying_. As in, _he _would be marrying her. Melinda was getting married to Caleb, not Reid, not Pogue, not Tyler—_Caleb_.

Caleb's breath caught. "Yes, I was."

"But ... You're not anymore?" she asked, the statement coming out as more of a question. In fact, the question she was really asking wasn't the one it sounded like at all. Melinda's underlying words were silently asking him if he was okay with marrying her.

"No," he shook his head gently, looking down at her—despite the fact that she was sitting on the counter above him he was still taller—and smiling. "I'm not anymore. You?"

Melinda looked up at him and smiled, swallowing another sour grape. "Nope."

She didn't have a reason to be worried anymore, it seemed, but what she _did _have ... Was Caleb.


	11. A Barbarian and a Silk Dress

A Barbarian and a Silk Dress

**

* * *

**

Melinda bit her lip, looking in the mirror at the dress.

She ran her hands over her waist, feeling the soft fabric under her fingertips. It was cut silk, simple; it tied at the shoulders and hung loosely, draping off her form while hugging her figure. She studied her reflection again and hummed in delight with a quiet, shy smile on her face. It was truly beautiful.

"You like it?" Grams asked, coming to stand behind her great-grandchild. "I wore it to the reception for ... Well, I think it was my _third_ wedding. Maybe."

"_Mom!_"

"What?" Penny 'Grams' Halliwell exclaimed, looking at her daughter, Patty, in shock. "What did I say?"

Melinda just rolled her eyes and bit her lip again to hide a smile. "It's gorgeous, Grams. Are you sure it's okay that I wear it?"

"Of course it's okay! Unfortunately, you have to wear it for that _barbarian_. Ugh, I mean, really. He's just terrible. An _arranged_ marriage! This would never have occurred in _my _day!"

The small brunette girl swallowed and clenched her fists uneasily. Why couldn't she just let it drop? Grams had been going on since she arrived. Apparently, she'd heard the sound of the wedding bells all the way up in Elder-land, and had made an appearance earlier than planned. While she was glad to let her great-granddaughter use her dress—obviously, _she _couldn't wear it anymore; why would she need it?—she wasn't happy that the girl was using it for this _arranged _marriage; this despicable boy that was simply _forcing _her to marry him, just so they wouldn't die.

What was so terrible about dying, anyway, Penny wondered?

Patty gripped Piper's hand behind her. "Mother, don't—."

Grams ignored her daughter and had begun to rant angrily, not taking notice of how Melinda shifted uncomfortably. "Those damn Elders—."

Piper attempted to cut her off, glancing at her daughter warily. "Grams—."

"—think they could do _whatever _they damn—."

"Mom ..." Patty cut in again.

"—want, but it's not right! They shouldn't force my baby to marry some _demon _trash—."

"_Grams!_"

All heads turned to face the bride-to-be, whose voice had just been raised. She stood, turned away from the mirror, fists clenched, chest heaving slightly. "Could you just _shut up?_" she asked rudely, before hiccuping and turning around to run from the room, slipping and leaving her simple ballet flats behind.

**.**

Caleb fiddled with the buttons on his cuff—_again_. They just wouldn't cooperate, and no one seemed to have noticed his troubles and moved to help him just yet.

He stood in front of a window in the parlor that overlooked the back lawn, staring into its reflective surface, searching for more help than just to his buttoning issue. Was Caleb doing the right thing, marrying a girl ten years younger than himself? _No_, his conscience told him. But was he doing the right thing, saving two families from death? _Yes_, his heart insisted.

The Danvers son did the cliche thing and followed his heart, something his mother would've told him was completely illogical. However, it was a choice he had to make, and his brain appeared to think he was making the smart decision.

It was a difficult option to choose, and Caleb was sure Melinda would be facing the same one upstairs, where she was getting ready.

Was she sad that her marriage was arranged, and that they didn't truly know each other? Didn't that make her wedding day a little less exciting? Once, Sarah had mentioned that she - like all girls, she'd also said—dreamed of her wedding day; it was supposed to be magical, and not in the sense that the person marrying them was actually a ghost.

It wasn't special, or loving, and their honeymoon consisted of simply returning to Ipswich—home.

That had to be at least a little bit disappointing, he rationalized. Caleb wished he could somehow make it better; fix it so that she wouldn't _have _to get married to him today of all days, but later, to someone she actually wanted to marry. His heart beat painfully. Did she even _want _to marry him? Did Caleb want to marry _her?_

He gave up on the button with an exhausted sigh and rubbed his pained temples. The more he thought about it, the more awful this whole wedding sounded—and the more painful his headache became.

A small, warm hand grabbed his flailing arm and wrapped around his wrist. "Here, let me help you with that."

Phoebe Halliwell—the middle sister of the three Charmed Ones, his exhausted mind recalled—stood before him with a kind, endearing smile. She had been the most welcoming of three, and he had a feeling it was because she somehow just _knew _things. Pru had mentioned her mother was an empath, one that felt and recognized others' emotions.

She fiddled with the button, long after she'd buttoned it efficiently, he noted. Neither of them spoke, but she looked up at him with a quiet smile that spoke volumes. What was she trying to tell him by coming over here, helping him, and smiling like that?

"You look very nice. Nervous?" Phoebe fixed him with a stare, her brown eyes piercing him like—like she could see straight through him. It wasn't a comforting feeling. "What's on your mind, big guy?"

He shrugged, but in reality he was _very _nervous. Caleb just wasn't going to mention that to his bride's very chatty aunt. "I just ... Don't know."

She nodded along, as though she got that answer all the time. "You know, you won't find all your answers at once. Sometimes your questions aren't worded right, or perhaps you aren't asking the right questions at all. You can't receive the answer you want without the question you need," said Phoebe cryptically.

Caleb's jaw dropped in shock. His mouth opened and closed, and he felt vaguely like a fish out of water. "How did you—I mean, you—my questions—_how?_"

"I got married once, too," she chuckled, "And although it wasn't nearly as critical as your marriage, I had my share of unanswered questions." Her eyes moved away from him and glanced about the room quickly, before alighting on Coop, her Cupid husband. "But as it turned out, I wasn't asking the right questions; in fact, I didn't really need those questions—_any_ questions at all, really. I have all the answers I need."

The brown-haired man just watched Phoebe as she smiled up at him and walked away, leaving him with a new piece of knowledge. Perhaps she was right, and he wasn't asking the right questions—or maybe he didn't have any questions at all?

He swallowed and clenched his jaw, stretching his fists lithely. And then—_pop_. Caleb growled as he looked down and realized his cuff button had come undone again.

This was going to be a long day.

**.**

Melinda knotted up the silk material of the beautiful dress in her hands as she tripped on the hem again.

Tears threatened to pour from her eyes for absolutely no reason as she ran down the hallway, slipping into a corner to hide as another person passed her—it was her Dad this time. He seemed utterly oblivious to the fact that she was there, and just hummed a happy little tune as he walked down the hall, a skip in his step.

What the heck was he so happy about, she wondered somewhat angrily. His only daughter was getting married to day, to some—to some _barbarian_ as Grams had so kindly put it. A tear rolled down her cheek and she absently wiped it away with the back of her palm.

How could this happen to her? She wondered, looking up with a blaming glare towards Elder-land, where she'd never been allowed to visit. Why couldn't they stop this? After everything horrible that had happened to the Aunts, couldn't they at least save her some pain? Whatever happened to consideration, kindness? How could they be so cruel, forcing her to marry someone she hardly knew?

Melinda wanted a choice in all this. She wanted the ability to make her own decisions, and not be controlled by stupid Charlotte Warren's. She knew nothing could be changed by harboring some irrational anger at Charlotte, and it felt vaguely like she was blaming Eve for the creation of Sin, but it made her feel a little bit better.

She sniffled a bit loudly, catching the ears of the newest passerby.

Pat poked his head into her small corner, seeing her crumpled on the ground and probably wrinkling her dress. And oh, _gods_—her makeup! It was probably a complete mess now, she fretted. "Melinda?" he asked, his smooth, rich voice sounding comforting. "What are you doing down there, babe?"

She attempted to smile up at her favorite family member, but it probably looked more like a grimace. She hadn't even realized she had sat down—or rather, curled up in the corner. "Um, I'm—ah, I'm making sure there are not moth balls?"

He let out a jolly little laugh and squatted down next to her, careful not to wrinkle his outfit also. "You sure about that? It sounds more like a question to me ..."

Melinda sniffled again, and the tears started dripping down her cheeks as she looked at her hands. They were shaking, she noticed for the first time. "Well, I—I ..." The brunette girl hiccuped as a sob caught in her throat.

"Oh, Min-Min," he moaned softly, leaning forward until he fell onto his knees, his new slacks be damned. Pat wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close and allowing her to bury her make-up stained face into his black button-up.

She sniffled, sobbed, and cried into his jacket, feeling extremely comforted and loved by the thick, warm arms that held her close to his chest. She curled into him, reveling in his warmth, but not feeling entirely cheered up or helped just yet. It was like something was missing in his hug; it just wasn't quite as fulfilling as it used to be. Melinda felt a little crazy for thinking that, since Pat's hugs had _always _made her feel better, especially since he was also the only one who knew about her experience in the alternate reality with Evil Wyatt, and he still loved her.

And yet, Melinda thought, she just wasn't feeling it, despite all the love and comfort that just radiated from Pat. Yes, she knew, this was something she wanted—this warm, loving hug—but was it the hug she needed?

The brunette sat still in his arms for a long moment, allowing her tears to dry before she could find that answer.

Suddenly, she stood up and detached his arms from him. Pat didn't look as hurt as he'd been expecting, but looked like he expected this. "You look beautiful, Melinda."

"It's the dress," she said simply, brushing off his compliment as she grabbed fistfuls of white, silky fabric and took off running on bare feet.

**.**

Melinda ran through the halls, ignoring everyone that looked at her like she had finally completely fallen off the deep end. Every now and then, she would run into a person that would try to grab onto her and stop her, but she just pushed past them, hurrying down the steps.

She didn't even glance up when Grams called out to her from the parlor, saying it was almost time, or when her mother apologized. She had someone she was looking for in the crowds of people that had gathered in the Halliwell home—ancestors dead and alive, plus all of her mothers' friends and their family—and she wasn't going to stop for anyone. A person caught her eye and she paused, stunned.

She knew she shouldn't have been surprised the red-haired woman was there, since half the relatives present were dead, but she still was. Melinda had never seen her present when they gathered the rest of the Halliwell ancestors, and yet, here she was. Probably because she was the one at fault, here.

Charlotte caught her eye and sent her a happy, jolly smile—it was too happy for the occasion, Melinda thought as she turned away, going back to searching for the person she wanted. However, five minutes passed until he was nowhere to be found.

Suddenly, Reid appeared in front of her, tapping his fingers on his chin in that obnoxious way he did. Little Penny was at his side, smiling up at him—probably, Melinda figured, because he hadn't ditched her yet. "My, my, my; don't you look lovely."

The small brunette had to hold back a serious snarl. She would have let it loose under normal circumstances, but assumed that Grams wouldn't have been happy if she blew up her wedding dress, and the wedding itself. "Where?" she asked, barely reining in her temper.

The blond man smirked down at her. "Straight to business, then. I never figured you for a—."

She cut him off with a glare, grabbing a fist full of his jacket and pulling him down to her height. "_Where?_" she growled, much less peaceful than before.

"In the sun room," he said as she quickly walked towards the room in question without a thank you. "Might want to touch up your makeup, before hand!"

A plant near his side blew up as she turned the corner. Reid simply laughed, ignoring Penny's enigmatic glare as she brushed flicks of ash and dirt from her dress.

**.**

Melinda's hand pushed against the hard, white wood of the sun room's door, flinging it open a little bit too hard; it smacked against the opposite wall with a bang, causing the figure standing in front of the back window to jump slightly.

"Sorry," she said with a blush and a sniffle, stepping forward into the room and shutting the door behind her to block out the sounds of the families.

Caleb smiled at her, still fiddling with his cuff button. "It's fine. I was getting a little too lost in my thoughts, anyway."

When he didn't seem to mind her presence, and didn't mention any nonsense about the bride seeing the groom before the wedding and bad luck, Melinda walked forward and took his arm in her hand, brushing away his hand and quickly snapping the button herself. "There," she said, looking down at his snapped button but still holding onto his wrist.

The Danvers son searched her face with his dark brown eyes, finding tear tracks and smears of makeup. "Hey, are you okay?" he asked, feeling like it was a very stupid question since she was so obviously not okay.

She shook her head back and forth as her lips trembled slightly, signaling that more tears were on the way. Sure enough, a sob slipped loose between her lips, and soon Caleb had taken his arm back to wrap it around her, hugging her close to his chest.

Melinda rested her head on his chest, careful not to rub her face on his dark suit jacket. They stood in silence for a few minutes, him just holding her as she cried herself out. "Thanks," she said, although she made no move to pull away from his comforting hold. "I needed that." She spoke truthfully; she _had_ needed his warmth—it was what she had needed all along when she was running around the house and accepting Pat's hugs. Caleb's hug had been the one she needed, but not necessarily wanted.

And wasn't that the truth of the entire arrangement, she thought. Doing something that needed to be done, but not something she necessarily wanted to do.

"Yeah, me too," he said softly, running a warm hand across her back in a comforting gesture. He _had_ needed her to be there for him; it soothed his worries and stress, in a way. It didn't seem like he was the only one putting all he had into this anymore; he didn't feel like he was forcing her to marry him like some evil cartoon villain.

They were in this stupid deal together, even if they didn't want to be.

Just as they were finally feeling relaxed enough around each other to talk about everything—and for Caleb to finally tell her about how they were returning to Ipswich—the door burst open, forcing them to jump apart awkwardly, fixing their clothes and looking guilty.

Fortunately, or rather unfortunately, Aunt Phoebe had been the one to fling the door open; she didn't even take note of their expressions or the feelings surrounding her. "What are you two doing in here? I've been looking for you _everywhere!_ And why are you in here, little missy? You _know_ it's bad luck to let the groom see the bride before the wedding."

Melinda swallowed sheepishly and shrugged back at Caleb with a smile before turning to her aunt. "Sorry, Aunt Pheebs. Why were you looking for us?"

The short, elder woman scoffed and threw her hands in the air. "Why was I _looking _for you?" she asked rhetorically, looking slightly ruffled and frustrated. "Because you're getting married, that's why!" She hurried forward and grabbed their wrists, pulling them forward with a strength Caleb hadn't realized she'd had. She was a small woman, after all.

"Where are we going?" Melinda asked, looking confused as her aunt dragged her along and out of the room. "I'm afraid I don't—I don't understand."

"It's time, you silly goose. You can't just walk to the altar right away, Caleb has to be up there first!"


	12. Altering Destiny

Altering Destiny

**

* * *

**

_"We can do this,"_ he'd told Melinda just before he left her to stand by Grams,_ "As long as we stick together, okay?"_

And she'd simply nodded, unable to speak or answer him properly because it felt like a frog was in her throat, holding all her words captive. Caleb had squeezed her hand slightly, in a comforting gesture that she hadn't really expected from him. She tried to manage a smile, and he gave her a blinding one back.

Now he was up there, in the front, and she was by herself walking down the aisle—unless you counted her father, who was walking with her and was allowing her to hold onto his arm for dear life. When they finally had to separate, she hadn't wanted to let go; Leo had to pry her off of him and gave her a little shove, and there she was, standing right across from Caleb again.

He was looking down at her, and she was looking up at him. Neither pair of eyes strayed. Grams was speaking, but they both knew all she said was more for the audience, anyway; they knew what they were getting in to.

He smiled at her, and again, she smiled back. It was impossible not to. When Caleb smiled, he _really _smiled—his teeth showed, and a few dimples popped out and his mouth stretched so far, it looked like his face was about to break. Her smile probably looked demure compared to his, but she didn't really care in that moment—she was much too focused on the fact that she was going to be eighteen and married.

"Hi," he mouthed suddenly, shocking her so much with his gall that she had to hold in a giggle.

Was he really saying hello to her during the exchanging of vows? Her smiled widened as she replied with a silent, "Hi."

If she'd thought his smile could get any bigger, it would've when she'd answered. However, his eyes just got this little shine to them, like he was actually happy and it wasn't just for show.

"How are you?" he mouthed.

That time she really _did _let loose a small giggle; was he flirting with her—now of all times? It was too comical. Thankfully, no one seemed to notice besides Grams, who shot them both dirty looks, like it was _her_ wedding they were interrupting, and not their own.

"Oh," she began, shrugging slightly as her mouth formed the words although no sound came out. "I'm so—so."

"Yeah? Me too," he claimed with a covert wink in her direction. "You look beautiful."

Melinda couldn't _believe_ this. How many people flirted during their wedding? Very few, she thought; but really, how many people were also forced to get married by some ancient, magical deal with death as the only other option?

Even less, she supposed.

Suddenly, Pru nudged her in the side and Melinda looked up, startled to see that everyone was looking at her expectantly. Caleb looked like was about to burst out in laughter, and Grams looked exasperated.

She blushed—she'd forgotten to speak, and she only had one line! "Oh, I do!"

A few people in the audience laughed, and Caleb chuckled slightly. Grams looked ready to kill someone, but refrained. She looked to Caleb, and he said the same line—with a little less enthusiasm and nervousness, Melinda noted. And then Grams was speaking again, but the petite brunette girl in the silk dress wasn't paying attention; she was a bit more focused on Caleb, who now appeared to be reaching for something.

The rings!

She hastily grabbed her own ring—for him—and they exchanged, easily sliding the simple gold bands on each other's fingers.

It had been one of her stipulations for the stupid wedding her mother and Grams had insisted on throwing; no elaborate decorations, and simple rings. She didn't want anything gaudy or overdone—it would be too weird. So, they quite simply had matching gold bands on their left hand's ring finger.

Apparently, Caleb was going to be giving her her cues from now on, because he didn't let go of her hand and instead held it within his own warm one. Grams must've said something else, but since Melinda still wasn't paying attention, she didn't hear it. She simply noted with a slight shock that Caleb's face was coming closer to her own, and his eyes were searching hers for something he hadn't yet seen.

She gulped. The kiss, how could she have forgotten?

Every wedding has one—the 'And you may now kiss the bride,' part had always been her favorite as a child when she'd had play weddings with her cousins.

His hand came to cup her cheek; it was warm, and slightly rough against her soft skin. His face kept coming closer, and Melinda obediently closed her eyes, feeling somewhat nervous. She didn't hate Caleb, but she certainly didn't love him either, and what was a wedding kiss without love?

She might have liked him—maybe even more than a little bit—but she wasn't feeling ready for this at all.

Suddenly, his lips brushed hers, and the only thing she had time to note was that they were warm and soft, with a hint of roughness—just like the rest of him—before he pulled away. Her eyes opened and they connected with his; he was smiling. She seemed unable to do anything but smile and blush a deep, rosy pink as people cheered in the background.

And what were they cheering for, she wondered? The kiss? The fact that they could live without fear of losing their powers or being unable to continue the Halliwell line? She figured it was the latter and ignored it, looking up and catching Caleb's eye—he was looking right back at her with those smiling eyes again.

**.**

The next hour was a complete blur to Melinda; it was full of hugs and hellos from everyone—humans like the Morrises were present, and witches from Magic School were there, too—and food, and most importantly, cake. If Piper's ordinary cake was legendary, her wedding cake was simply god-like.

However, because of everyone coming up to congratulate her and thank her—"Oh, Melinda—dear! You look simply _beautiful!_"—Melinda hadn't quite had a chance to even taste her mother's cake. It seemed to be always just out of her reach, and no one had offered to get her any. She certainly wasn't about to ask for a piece, either; she was the _bride_, goddammit, and if she wanted a slice of cake it should just appear in front of her!

Well, she didn't really feel that way, but she had a feeling Pru would've, and lately doing things that Pru would've had been putting her in a right good spot. So, as soon as one of the teachers from Magic School released her god-awful grip on Melinda's wrist to go mingle, the petite brunette woman took off. A few people that had been making their way towards her looked confused when she suddenly disappeared in a swirl of glowing gold-blue orbs, but brushed it off.

She reappeared with a small, secretive grin in the empty dining room, where a crowd had once gathered. Everyone was now more interested in the backyard, the front hall, the parlor, or the sun room. Melinda sighed, feeling completely at peace with her loneliness, and stepped forward to cut a slice of the cake, but there was no knife.

She froze, eyes big and round, looking in utter despair at the cake, missing a knife for her to cut a slice. After a minute, she regarded her fingers quietly, wondering if she could clean them off after grabbing a piece with her hand, and if her mother would know it was her, since surely her fingers would leave obvious marks in the cake's remains. She'd been concentrating so hard upon the beautiful cake and her hand, she'd missed the opening of the door from the kitchen.

Just as she was about to finally give in and grab some, a throat behind her cleared, shocking her so much that her hand flung forward and scraped off a large chunk of frosting, smearing it over her hand. Melinda swore under her breath and and heaved a fairly pathetic sigh—she didn't even _like_ frosting; she couldn't lick it off.

Behind her, a male voice chuckled. "Here," Caleb said, doing something behind her back. Suddenly, a slice of cake was cut from the tier—without the use of a knife—and set on the plate. He reached over her sticky fingers for a napkin and a fork, then stepped up beside her to rest the fork on the plate and hold his hand out, waiting.

She glanced up at him, feeling a bit confused and extremely embarrassed that he'd Used for her to have a slice of cake. He grinned right back at her, making her smile a bit in return as he always did lately, and made a grab for her hand.

"But it's—"

The twenty-eight year old man took her hand in his slightly rough, warm one and wrapped her hand in the napkin, wiping all the frosting off and leaving her feeling a bit like a child that needed help washing their hands. "There," he said, giving her the hand back, even though she really just wanted to let him keep it forever. "Now you're only slightly sticky."

Melinda grinned. "Thanks, Caleb—if I'd been completely sticky, I don't know what I'd do," she said with a roll of her eyes, wondering curiously if she was _again_ flirting with him, as she'd found herself doing much too often today. When his grin widened—if that was even _possible_—she took that as a definite _yes_. They were flirting; he was flirting with her, and she was flirting right back with him, too.

And, oddly enough, Melinda didn't seem to mind flirting with Caleb. Her brothers couldn't object to it, either, since she was flirting with her husband.

"Oh no problem," he answered, taking her clean hand and leading her into the big kitchen. He stopped in front of the sink, leaning against the counter top and looking like he belonged there; almost like he was just another untouchable piece of her mother's kitchen appliances.

She noted that the phrase 'like he owned the place' didn't quite fit him. Caleb wasn't smug about the way he leant (if you can be smug about leaning, anyway), he was simply never smug at all, Melinda realized. The smug/arrogant personality wasn't part of who he was, that was more like Reid. He was simply casual and courteous. It fit him, too.

He looked up from the floor and saw her watching him, evaluating him, and she blushed a deep pink. She quickly turned towards the sink, and busied herself by washing her hand clean.

Unknown to her, Caleb saw her look and blush and grinned, ducking his head down so she wouldn't get anymore embarrassed. He turned on his side, leaning his hip against the counter and slouching down on his elbow so he'd be more at her level.

"So," he began, his voice coming out right behind Melinda's ear.

She shivered, and he thought the action originated differently than it had. "Are you cold?" he asked, sounding slightly worried for her warmth.

"Well," she joked with a smile in his direction as her blush continued to fade, "This dress isn't exactly as insulated as your tux."

In truth, the small brunette _was_ slightly chilly; the silk of the dress was thin and left her arms and upper back bare, causing goosebumps to pop up on her skin. However, she hadn't mean to push him into action, or even ask for his jacket, but that didn't stop Caleb from taking it off and slipping it over her shoulders.

"Warmer?" he asked her as she dried her hands.

Melinda glanced up at him momentarily before asking, and saw from the concerned look on his kind face that he actually did want an answer—a serious one. She snuggled into the coat, pushing her arms through the sleeves that were simply much too long. "Much."

He smiled, causing the skin around his dark brown eyes to crinkle up in happiness. "Good," he said, before opening his mouth to speak again. "I—uh," he ran his hand through his hair, ruffling it—his nervous habit, she knew. "I forgot to mention it, but ..."

"What? What is it?" she asked, suddenly worried. What wasn't he telling her, she thought nervously. Her first thought was possibly another bad side-effect of his Power, or something; like maybe he couldn't have kids, or his mother was evil or he was gonna die the next day. Melinda really hoped it wasn't the last one.

Caleb swallowed and spoke in a rush. "Wegoinackoopswichmorrah."

Her brow furrowed as she glanced up at him. "Um—I'm sorry, but I didn't get that ..." she trailed off, confused.

"We're going back to Ipswich tomorrow."

Melinda froze, stunned. They were going back to Ipswich, _tomorrow_? "Oh," she said, sounding quite disappointed. She knew they wouldn't stay in San Fransisco forever, but she didn't know the Sons would leave so soon. "I would've thought—I guess ... Never mind."

She looked down at her hands, feeling slightly embarrassed. How had she thought he would stay for her, simply because she wished for him to stay? Just because she wanted him to stay, didn't mean he _would_. He probably didn't even want to stay, she realized. Caleb probably wanted to get the hell out of here and never look back, leaving the woman he'd married behind in the dust. Being married didn't have to mean spending the rest of his life with her—is that what he thought? It hadn't been what she'd thought.

Caleb's face fell. He should've realized she would want to spend more time with her family and not leave the day after they'd gotten married, if she wanted to leave her birthplace at all. He was a horrible husband now, wasn't he? And they'd only been married for an hour! "I'm sorry—I just have to get back, and I thought you'd want to see the estate, and meet my mom an—."

"_What?_" Melinda asked shrilly, looking up at him with a dropped jaw.

"I just—I guess I didn't think about it ..." he murmured, looking down at her before glancing back to his feet.

He felt slightly ashamed and embarrassed, something new for him—he hadn't even felt this way when Sarah had questioned him about the Power. He'd been strong about it, and now he was simply crumbling under this much smaller woman's gaze. Either Tyler had been rubbing off on him more than he knew, or he cared about Melinda's opinion more than he had for the blonde's. Caleb was seriously hoping it was the latter.

"You mean—." the brunette swallowed, really, really, _really_ hoping he was saying what she wanted him to be. "You mean I'm coming _with _you?" she queried, in a very small, shy voice.

Caleb chuckled; this was much simpler than what he'd imagined and much easier to take care of—he didn't want to leave her behind, after all. "Yes, of course you're coming with us. You didn't think I was going to leave you here, did you?" He glanced over at her shocked face and quickly realized that she had thought so. "You _did_."

"Yeah—I did," she answered in chopped fragments, still a bit surprised and overcome.

He stepped closer to Melinda and raised his hand up to her face, as he had done so many times before and thought better of it, and finally went through with the simple touch, cupping her cheek softly and gently forcing her to meet his gaze. "I would never have left you behind," he stated, eyes searching her own for comprehension.

When he found what he was looking for in the green depths, he continued. "I want you to come with us—I live in Ipswich, and—." he cut himself off, having been ready to say, 'Now so do you,' and instead thinking better of it. He wasn't sure of how she would take it, just yet anyway. "I want you to see my hometown, since I saw yours."

The brunette refrained from looking disappointed in his statement, and instead nodded. He just wanted her to see his hometown, she reasoned. It wasn't a big deal—she was just leaving for a visit. "Alright. For how long?"

"However long you want to stay," he answered simply with a shrug, brushing off the question. The reply that had been on the tip of his tongue—_forever_—was stored away; now wasn't the time.

She nodded in compliance again, not wanting to delve too deep into the meaning of his words—that was Pru's job, anyway. It had been a long day, and quite suddenly, she was feeling very tired. Of its own accordance, her neck bent forward, resting her head against his chest, and to his credit, Caleb didn't even tense.

His arms wrapped around her like they fit there perfectly, and the pair just relaxed into each other. Both felt oddly at peace, now that they were out of the crowds—Caleb had spent the long day being harried by ghosts and friends he didn't know who wanted to meet him, and Melinda had been greeting everyone she _did_ know. Both were now sufficiently sick of people and company.

Caleb thought back to how two weeks ago he'd just been happy to be finished with law school and his bar exams, ready to finally take over his father's firm. He was finally done with leg work, and would now be appointed head of the company; he hadn't expected to be forced to put his firm's party on a temporary hold so he could meet and marry a witch within two weeks. Today, he got married. Tomorrow, he'd go home with his new wife, and within the week return to the firm.

What about Melinda, he wondered? She'd probably been ready to spend her summer at home, apply at a college or two, perhaps, since he got the idea that she was smart and well-read. She'd probably have never expected to endure a hot, Ipswich summer—with, of course, a slight chance at rain and a thunderstorm once a week.

Suddenly, a thought struck him—Melinda had probably been planning something for her birthday. Today, _had_ to be her eighteenth birthday—it was the entire reason he was here. She hadn't even mentioned it once, though. Caleb took a gander and said softly, "Happy birthday."

"Thanks," she mumbled into his starched shirt, realizing that today in fact _was_ her eighteenth birthday and that no one had even congratulated her yet—besides Caleb, that is. She pulled away from him, feeling much warmer than she had before, and opened her mouth to ask him how he knew it was her birthday, since she'd never mentioned it to him that she knew of.

"—and I just don't see why she has to be so difficult, Leo; it's completely irrational—." Piper said, backing in through the door from the backyard into the kitchen, carrying half of yet _another_ set of tiers of a wedding cake.

Melinda took another step back from Caleb, widening the gap between the two as she saw he parents enter and simultaneously wondering vaguely why she felt colder than before.

"Hi, Mom," she said, forcing her mother to drop her side of the cake and turn to see her daughter, leaving Leo holding up the other half as it slid to the floor in a pile of frosting and confectioner's sugar.

"Honey? What are you doing in here?" Piper said distractedly as she turned around, muttering a spell to right the cake and set it atop the kitchen counter. She spun back around, looking critically towards her daughter and son-in-law. "Shouldn't you two be outside, mingling? You do realize your ancestors won't be here all night. Don't you want to say good-bye, at least?"

From beside her, Leo sighed and was preparing himself to intervene and lecture his wife on how their daughter was now a married adult, and could make her own decisions, when the woman in question nodded curtly as he face alighted with some intriguing thought.

"Yeah, we should." She turned back towards Caleb, and forgetting she was leaving his coat and was about to leave him in the lion's den with her parents, said, "I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere."

She quickly orbed out of the kitchen, using her magic for the simplest thing. Piper rolled her eyes in frustration at the simple act, before looking Caleb over again in a sweeping, maternal yet judging glance.

How did she do that, Caleb wondered, noting the look she gave him—it was completely oxymoronic in its very own nature. "Um, hi?"

**.**

Melinda orbed into the backyard without a care, knowing the only people they would've invited to her small, impromptu wedding were ones that knew of magic. She quickly searched the crowds of people on the back lawn and deck for a redhead, but found none.

The newly-married brunette frowned and looked again, stepping forward to look closer in hopes of finding the woman she was searching for, but came up at another loss. Most of the ghostly half of her family were still present, besides a few odds and ends. Surely the specific one she was looking for hadn't left yet?

Suddenly, a familiar blonde entered her sight, looking straight at her. Melinda stepped up to the smiling woman, noting they looked much less similar then their names led people to believe. "Hello, Melinda," she said to her namesake.

Melinda Warren smiled down at the shorter woman. "You look lovely. I'm sure Caleb would have to agree with me, am I correct?"

Melinda Halliwell paused, remembering how he'd mouthed to her during the ceremony that he thought she'd looked beautiful. She'd dismissed the words at the time, focusing more on the fact that they were talking—mouthing words silently, she corrected herself—during their wedding, than what he'd exactly said at the time. "Yes," she answered, almost blushing. "He does."

The blonde woman smiled again, her blue-green eyes sparkling brightly. "I'd thought so." She pursed her lips in thought, and then widened them in an 'o' shape the brunette Melinda hadn't realized the blonde one would be familiar with. Perhaps being dead had its own modern perks, she thought sarcastically. "My mother left after the ceremony."

The brunette's jaw clenched. "You knew I was looking for her?"

"She had a feeling you would have some questions for her," the blonde Melinda simply stated.

"And she left anyway?"

The taller of the pair shrugged indifferently. "She knew I could answer them for you better than she could."

"Wha—_why?_" Melinda asked, suddenly confused. Hadn't Charlotte made the deal in the first place, hadn't _Charlotte _been the ones to sign her heir up to a wedding she didn't want, hadn't _Charlotte_ been the one to curse the Sons in the first place? "I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean."

The Warren woman smiled again, this smile appearing to look less secretive than the others. "She made the deal for me, Melinda; you knew that, yes?" The brunette nodded in reply. "Then you also know it was to protect me so that I could survive and predict the Charmed Ones." Again, the other female nodded and she continued. "My mother died when I was very young; so young, in fact, that evil could easily corrupt me and raise me to be evil, like your brother, Wyatt."

Melinda Halliwell sucked in a breath at the mention of the alternate future she preferred to leave undiscussed and swiftly switched topics. "And the male coven protected you like they promised."

"Yes, to an extent. John Putnam's son was older than me, and in another few years, he would've been ready to marry. He wanted to marry him off, and the coven I stayed with wanted to make sure he held up his end of the deal. I was promised to Putnam's son when we came of age also, and he protected me from the evil."

"But you were never married," she replied, confused. And Putnam's son was by another woman, and he wouldn't have been alive to see him married, Melinda the Halliwell thought, remembering from what Caleb had told her of the mysterious Putnam line.

"No," the blonde woman said, shaking her head. "I never married. John's son died before he even received his Power—when he was still a little boy."

"That's horrible," the brunette murmured, studying her namesakes' face sadly.

"But doesn't it sound familiar?" the Warren witch asked curiously, no longer smiling. "I was to be married—to protect me and my line of witches—to a male witch, who also wanted to protect his line." The Halliwell witch nodded in understanding; she saw the similarities in their predicaments. "Except, we never got to marry. We never even got to meet. He was struck dead, by our Higher Power, whom realized his presence in my life would alter my own destiny of prophesying your mother and aunts."

"And," Melinda Halliwell began, beginning to see the answer to her question. "The Higher Power didn't strike Caleb dead because ..."

"He would not alter your destiny; he _is_ your destiny."

* * *

**AN:** So, just so you know, everything Melinda Warren just said about her and the Putnams—and her dead husband-to-be—was completely pulled out of my ass. I made it all up, since I wanted it to sound good and believable. It was all totally AU, and never happened in either fandom. I have no idea who this 'Higher Power' is or who John Putnam's other son is.


	13. Melinda the Good Witch

Melinda the Good Witch

**

* * *

**

"I've never been on a plane before," Melinda admitted, looking at the big, white machine outside the windows somewhat rarely. She was gripping Caleb's hand tightly and hadn't let go since they had arrived at the airport, when he'd offered her his hand to help get out of the car.

Reid whipped his head around to stare at her, shocked. "You've never been on a plane? Sheltered, much?"

Caleb used his other arm to slug his blond friend as his wife grimaced in distaste.

"I'm not _sheltered_. I'm half whitelighter, there's a difference. When your family can go anywhere they want in seconds, there isn't much use for planes. Haven't you ever Used to pop up somewhere, or are you too _sheltered?_" she retorted with a smirk. Beside her, Caleb grinned.

Pogue and Tyler chortled as Reid's face pinched sourly. "No ..." he said hesitantly, turning to glare at Caleb. "We aren't allowed to, or else the Fearless Leader says we could get Addicted."

"You could," Caleb replied with a knowing look.

However, Melinda didn't acknowledge Caleb's reply; she was more focused on what Reid had called her husband. "Fearless Leader?" she questioned, looking up at Caleb and the others confused.

"Um, yeah," the eldest Son answered her quietly. "Since I'm oldest, I'm sort of like the unofficial leader, I guess. But it's more what Reid calls me when he feels he doesn't get his way."

"Hey! That's not cool, man ..."

The tiny brunette woman tuned them out again, looking out at the monstrosity that sat gleaming on the tarmac. Not for the first time that day, she wished her were there to see her off. Everyone was busy, though—busy with their own lives.

Penny was staying at a friend's, and Pru and Peyton were at school; Magic School, that is—it went all year round. Henry and Pat were _supposed _to be at summer school, but Aunt Paige had complained to Piper just that morning her sons were skipping much too often for her liking. They went to a human school, and found that leaving school grounds was so much easier when you had powers. Billie had asked for help on one of her hunts that was proving difficult, so Wyatt and Chris had gone off to help her. Leo was with the Elders, fighting about something or other, and Piper was at her restaurant, trying to fix some inane catastrophe. Aunt Pheebs was at work, too, as were Aunt Paige, Uncle Henry, and Uncle Coop. Two out of the four of those 'jobs' were magical ones and couldn't be ignored.

And little Melinda was here, facing her fear of airplanes and wishing she had been able to orb a group of people, their luggage, and a car all at once. That would've been perfect; she wouldn't have had to go on that stupid, metallic beast, and she could've been in Massachusetts in seconds. However, as her brothers liked to remind her, her orbing wasn't exactly up to par and moving large objects like cars was for the advanced, which she so obviously was not.

"_Flight number UAL862, San Francisco to Boston now boarding_." a female voice spoke over the loud-speaker, proclaiming their boarding call.

Caleb looked down at Melinda and tugged on their intertwined hands to get her moving when his brothers had already headed towards the plane. She looked slightly pale, and her eyes were fixed on the view of the plane through the windows. "Melinda," he said softly, finally getting her attention. "It's time to go."

**.**

When they were finally seated, and all the luggage her brother's hadn't offered to orb over later was packed away in the overhead compartment, Caleb was seated in between the window seat (Melinda) and the aisle seat (an extraordinarily fat man). Melinda had insisted upon the window seat, since she not only wanted to see land, she felt it would also help her nauseousness, which had kicked in as soon as she'd boarded the plane.

She continued to grip Caleb's usually warm hand, which was now feeling slightly clammy—probably due to her anxiety.

"Good afternoon, everyone. Welcome to United Airlines, Flight UAL862—UA862. We will be arriving in Boston at Logan International Airport in approximately eight hours, and our emergency exits are there ..."

Melinda completely ignored the rest of the flight attendant's speech, knowing she could orb out from the bathroom—the emergency exits wouldn't do someone like her much good. She was quite focused on the whole 'eight hours' part of what the tall, thin woman had said. "_Eight_ hours?" she whimpered, looking up at Caleb with round, worried eyes.

He looked a bit worried, too—either because he didn't think his hand could stand another eight hours of gripping torture, or for her, she wasn't sure. "Don't worry," he said comfortingly with a small smile that reached his eyes, giving them that shine she liked so much. "It'll be fine, I promise—and if it isn't, we can get out of here quick." That was true, she noted thoughtfully, purposely ignoring the fat man's incredulous look at Caleb's words. "Just fall asleep. It'll go by faster if you're not conscious."

She grinned—that was true, too. "I don't know if I can ..."

"Sure you can," he said, "Just think of the most monotonous, boring thing you can."

Melinda tried to fall asleep before the plane took off, she really did. Unfortunately for her and Caleb's poor hand, she didn't. She couldn't think of anything monotonous and only seemed to be able to focus on what was around her—Reid and Tyler in the next row up, fighting over a pair of head phones, the fat man drooling slightly, the sound of what she assumed to be Pogue's rhythmic snores from the row behind them.

Actually, now that she thought about it and got over the turbulence on the way up, Pogue's snores were pretty soothing, and the feel of Caleb's thumb rubbing back and forth on the outside of her hand was really quite relaxing. Her eyes fluttered to a close, and her head drooped to the side.

She had dreams about Caleb and the other Sons; he ordered them around and made them his slaves ... It was a weird dream, to say the least.

Beside Melinda, Caleb sat calmly, enjoying the plane ride like he would a roller coaster. The turbulence didn't bother him, although Pogue's snores did slightly. The rather large man to his right took the arm rest for himself, and he knew he wouldn't be falling asleep anytime soon.

Even though his petite wife had, he kept up rubbing her hand with with his thumb, thinking how relaxing it was—to him.

Her skin was as soft as it looked, and she was more pale than even Reid. The contrast of the colors of their skin might have been comical in any other situation; his was a tanned brown shade, and she was a milky white, splattered with freckles. It was pretty endearing, he thought—like the whiteness of her skin represented her innocence, or however much innocence a demon-hunter could have.

The eight hours passed quickly, and soon they were landing in Boston. Melinda was still asleep, he noted with a smile—she must not have slept well the night previous, and it couldn't help that they had arrived at the airport four hours before their plane departed, leaving them standing in the airport, half-awake at eight in the morning.

He shook her awake gently, realizing how messed up her jetlag was going to be when he saw the sun setting already.

"Did I sleep the whole ride?" she asked groggily, her eyes attempting to stay open.

Caleb smiled slightly and helped her up, grabbing their minimal number of bags from the overhead compartment. "Yes, you did, congratulations. You've just effectively been on a plane—for eight hours—_and _you didn't die."

**.**

Everyone was pretty groggy on the drive home, but Caleb stayed awake enough to drop each of his brothers off at their respective homes; Parry, Simms, and Garwin. When they finally reached the Danvers estate, it was nearing ten at night, and Melinda was wide awake while Caleb was starting to yawn. He realized now he should've gotten sleep to keep up with her, but it was too late.

"Wow," she said, looking up and around the driveway as they took the turn off to Caleb's place. "This is ... _Creepy_."

Branches of ivy hung over them as they drove up, giving her the feeling that the plants were reaching out for her. It was dark out, and there was no one around, opposed to the lightness of San Francisco at all times and the constant train of people around her. Ipswich, MA was definitely going to be a change in pace for Melinda.

The drive up to the front of the house was long, and when it finally illuminated, she noted in awe that there was a large, bubbling fountain out front and a huge pond of some sort—or maybe it was a moat? She'd have to ask Caleb later—and she hadn't seen it before, but as she looked back behind them and heard a loud clanging noise, Melinda spotted a set of iron gates, blocking the drive up to the house.

Caleb simply watched her take it all in, face blank as she evaluated the place he'd grown up in. She hadn't even seen the house yet, and she'd already labeled it as creepy, which was definitely a fitting remark for the entire place. "It's nicer in the daytime—not as creepy."

She nodded along with his words and faced forward in her seat, seeing the large, brick house for the first time—if you could even call it a house, she thought. It was more like a large _mansion_. It had to be at least three stories, not including the little turrets that seemed to spout off the top of the mansion. Everything about the place screamed 'regal' at her, and it looked even bigger than the White House, which didn't seem all that big anymore.

As she took in the large windows, iron gate, turrets, fountain and trees and brick again, Melinda decided the Danvers home wasn't a mansion; no, it was a _castle_.

"You live _here_?" she asked, not even wanting to compare the huge place to her now humble-looking Halliwell manor.

He shrugged and parked the car beside the front, deciding the garage with his father's collection might not be the best thing for her to see now. "Yeah, my ancestors built it. All the Danvers have lived here since we founded Ipswich."

Melinda looked up at the Danvers castle in awe; Caleb opened her door and took her hand to pull her out, but she was still pretty distracted with craning her neck to take everything in. He grabbed the few bags they'd brought with them and took her through the front door and straight upstairs, slightly curious as to whether his mother had any of the guest rooms readied or if she had assumed Melinda would be sleeping in his bed.

"Where's your mother?" she asked, confused as she looked around and saw that the whole place seemed empty, and it felt it, too, despite the warm reds and golds all the rooms seemed lavished in.

Caleb grinned slightly, but it was ruined with a yawn. "She's probably asleep, now. It's after ten."

"Oh," Melinda answered, feeling slightly embarrassed at her stupid question; just because she wasn't tired right now didn't mean other people weren't—Caleb was right before her, yawning up a storm as he tried to stay awake.

He stopped in front of a door suddenly, and she almost bumped into his back as he peeked in through the door to see that the room was clean and ready for a guest. He stepped in and flicked on the light, revealing a dark four poster bed swathed in gold sheets and blankets.

"Here," he said shortly as he dropped off the bag she'd brought with her to use while waiting for her brothers to bring her other stuff. "My bedroom is just next door, and if you need anything, come and get me, alright?"

She nodded and held in a sigh of relief as she realized that she got to sleep in her own bed, and Caleb would sleep in his own bed. As in, separately. Not together. Even if they were married, she wanted her own bed—this wasn't a honeymoon.

Caleb ducked out and probably immediately went to sleep, but Melidna couldn't do the same. She was much too awake to sleep any longer, but she curled up in the bed anyway, feeling small compared to its absolute largeness. She turned off the lights in hopes of it making her sleepy, but all it seemed to do was make the room creepier than it already was.

It felt like the shadows were watching her, and the curtains to the window were hiding something dangerous behind them, and the door to the bathroom opened to more than that, but she dismissed the feelings—they were childish fears and she really did need to get over her fear of the dark. It was completely irrational, she knew, but it didn't stop her from sitting there, wide awake, watching the shadows around her warily.

All Melinda wanted to do was get out of the room and go somewhere that felt safe, but she didn't know anywhere that felt safe in Ipswich. All she had was Caleb, and she wasn't going to go wake him up when he was dead tired, and definitely wasn't about to go crawling back to her family in San Francisco. Not only would it be so wrong on so many levels, but she would also feel like a little kid asking for help—and she didn't want to feel like a little kid anymore. She was eighteen. She wanted to be a grown up, and so she would be.

And so the powerful Melinda Halliwell sat in bed for four hours, staring off into the dark until she fell into a fitful sleep.

**.**

Caleb's mother woke him up at eight in the morning, sharp. She sat daintily on the edge of his bed and shook his arm gently until his eyes opened and focused on her aging face.

"Well?" she asked him impatiently as he sat up, resting against the headboard. "Where is she?"

Her son rolled his dark brown eyes at her question, while simultaneously attempting to rub the sleep away. "She's in the next room, Mother—and she has a name."

Evelyn's eyes narrowed at him. He was acting strange about this girl, even more strange than usual. "And what is it, then?"

"Melinda," he said.

A wry smile crossed his mother's lips, and he looked vaguely worried at the sight. "The Good Witch," she murmured with a smirk and a slight chuckle.

Again, he rolled his eyes and scoffed exasperatedly. "That's _Be_linda, Mother. Not Melinda."

"Close enough," the dark-haired woman claimed with a shrug. "What's she like? Is she sweet? Pretty? What color—."

Caleb cut his mother off. "One question at a time, please." He smirked at her as she waited with an eyebrow raised, impatience evident again. She clicked her tongue at him in distaste, and he grinned before answering. "She's very sweet and kind. She has brown hair and green eyes, and she's very small. She's also very powerful, Mother, so no funny business."

The old woman ignored his last comment and focused on something he hadn't said as she evaluated his responses. "You didn't say if she was pretty or not."

"I'll let you be the judge of that for yourself," he said with a shrug, attempting to brush it off, but his mother knew better.

She looked closely at him and pursed her lips, thinking over his words. He seemed to like the girl quite a bit, she decided, and he acted a bit protective over her and rather defensive. Did her son have a crush on his wife? The thought made her smile as she stood up and crossed the room to leave again. "I'll let you wake her up, then."

"Mother—." but she was already gone, shutting the door behind her.

Caleb frowned as he wondered what could have put that smile on his mother's face; whatever it was couldn't be good. She no longer smiled out of pure joy, she was too jaded for that. Had he said something to spark a thought in her head? He'd thought he'd weaved through her questions fairly well, guarding all he said, but apparently it wasn't good enough to stop Evelyn Danvers from finding out the truth behind his comments.

When she'd asked if Melinda was pretty, Caleb had realized his mother was up to something. She was not a vain woman, and had surely been asking if Caleb _thought _Melinda was pretty, not if she actually was or not. He'd wanted to say that she was beautiful, but if his mother was scheming, less was always more.

When Caleb was finally out of bed, clean and dressed, it was nearing nine.

He knocked on Melinda's door to see if she was already up, but when he got no reply back he entered the dark room to go get her up. He hesitantly stepped in and left the door open to shed some light into the pitch black room. After opening the curtains and bringing even more light into the room, Caleb discovered a small, nearly insignificant lump in the middle of the mattress under the blankets—Melinda, he correctly assumed.

She was curled up into a tiny ball under the comforter, and the only thing visible about her was a few strands of short, curly hair. He smiled and leaned over the bed, pulling the covers back just enough so that he could see a bit more of her. Her face appeared to be scrunched up in pain, and she kept making little whimpering sounds he hadn't heard before. Her head moved back and forth, shaking slightly.

Melinda was having a nightmare.

"Melinda," he said softly, brushing a few strands of hair from her face. "Wake up, babe."

**.**

Melinda woke up gasping.

She sat up quickly, panting and feeling like she was choking on her breath. Caleb was sitting beside her, looking just as startled to how she'd woken up. She gripped his forearm and fumbled for words, still shaking.

"It was just a nightmare," he said, "You're fine now. I'm here."

_But it wasn't just a nightmare_, she wanted to say as the tears started to roll down her cheeks. She didn't understand—she'd never had any dreams, or whatever that had been, like that ever before. It felt so real ...

Caleb wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close and situating her in his lap. "Shh," he murmured comfortingly, rubbing her back with his big hands. "It's alright. It's over now."

He's alive, she thought, burying her face into Caleb's shirt and holding the material tightly with her hands. This was real, Melinda knew, but hadn't the nightmare been, too? It had seemed real, at least. She could smell the blood, feel her pain, and hear his screams as he lay dying. Were you supposed to be able to do all those things in dreams? She hadn't ever before.

The dream—or nightmare, as it were—vaguely reminded Melinda of one she'd had before, but she just couldn't place the memory.

Words were finally coming to her mouth, and they began overflowing as she leaned back to look into his face and grab hold of his cheeks gently. "You—you were _dying_ and I couldn't—I—." sobs took over her words as more tears rolled down her cheeks.

The Danvers son pulled her close to him again, combing his fingers through her hair in a way that he'd seen Wyatt do to her. "It wasn't real, Melinda. This is real, okay? I'm not dying, and we're both fine."

She nodded against his shoulder and wiped her tears away with the backs of her hands, feeling like a child again. After a few more moments, the sobs slipped away and she relaxed against him, turning in his hold to face out and away from his chest and resting her back against him. She looked out the window and sighed, intertwining her fingers with his.

"I'm sorry; I'm such a child. It was just a nightmare, I guess." Melinda wanted to believe her words, but there was something about them that didn't quite ring true. It wasn't just a nightmare, but she would keep that to herself.

He laughed slightly and rested his chin on top of her head. "S'okay. But you aren't a child for having a nightmare—I have them sometimes, too. I'm pretty sure it's only natural; like nature's way of saying _fuck you_ when things start going too well."

Melinda laughed at his words, immediately thankful that he had lightened up the tense situation.

"Thanks for waking me up."

"Oh, no problem—I actually came in here to get your lazy butt up so we could get some breakfast; besides, my mother wants to meet you. She woke me up to ask where you were."

She laughed again, getting the feeling that this was something his mother did rather often, waking him up early to ask him questions. "Of course. I just need to get dressed; I don't fancy meeting your mother in my pajamas would be all that appropriate."

Caleb grinned and slipped out from underneath her. He paused before the door, glancing back. "I'll meet you in the kitchen, okay? It's in the back of the house, on the left side of the staircase; furthest door back at the end of the hall."

"What if I get lost?"

"Then we'll find you in a few years," he joked, shutting the door behind him as he left, making his way to the kitchen.

After sitting on her bed wallowing in self-pity for a few moments, in which she thought about her realistic nightmare, Melinda got her lazy bum off the bed and into a clean pair of jeans, since she didn't know what the weather was like, and a simple shirt that covered. And then, partly because she was worried she'd been taking too long and partly because she wasn't sure she'd be able to find it, Melinda orbed out of the guest bedroom and into the front hall, where she promptly bumped into a tall, dark-haired woman, tumbling them both over.

"Oh, gosh! I'm so sorry!" Melinda cried, hastily untangling herself from the older woman. She stood and offered the woman a hand, but the lady seemed distracted as she took the smaller girl's hand and helped herself up.

At full height, the older woman stood a whole head and shoulders taller than Melinda, but appeared to be staring down at her in awe. "What—you weren't there, and then you were! I don't understand ..."

Melinda apologized again and tucked her hair behind her ear. "Sorry. I was just orbing—it's a thing. Um, I'm supposed to meet Caleb in the kitchen ... I don't suppose you could show me where that is?" she asked wistfully with a shy smile, hoping the woman could help her so she wasn't late.

Evelyn Danvers smiled at the small girl in front of her. If she wasn't sure that she'd been the Good Witch girl before when she'd seen her 'orbing' or whatever that was, she definitely did now. Caleb was completely right; Melinda _was _a tiny thing, probably around five feet. Evelyn looked her over as she mumbled something about meeting Caleb again and not wanting to be late, but she simply took no notice.

How had Caleb not just admitted to her beauty? For that's what the woman in front of her surely was, a beauty—she had bright green eyes, pale, freckled skin and short, curly brown hair that was cut just above the tops of her shoulders. With some work, Evelyn noted, she could be out of that childish phase and into looking more like a grown up, beautiful young woman.

She smiled. "I'll take you there myself. I was just heading that way, actually."

Melinda smiled at the older woman and noticed for the first time how her smile seemed so familiar; too big for her face—and her eyes shined with that spark. However, she dismissed the thought of familiarity as the woman took her straight to the kitchen, where Caleb was reading the back of a box of pancake mix, looking slightly confused.

He looked up at their entrance and did a double take at the two women who already seemed to have met. "Mother, I see you've met Melinda."

"Yes," Evelyn said, smiling at the other girl.

Melinda looked up, blushing. _That_ was Caleb's mom? Well, that's why her smile looked so familiar, Melinda guessed, more than just slightly embarrassed.

* * *

**AN: **I know this chap is probably slightly disappointing since I skipped ahead of what happened with the two Melindas, but eventually, if you guys are all good little reviewers, I might slip their conversation in somewhere, or maybe send it out as a bonus thank-you to the people that review a certain upcoming chapter :)

To the fans of _Charmed_: So, this was mentioned by a reviewer last chapter; Melinda isn't _supposed _to be part whitelighter because Leo was human again when she was conceived, so this makes the _Charmed_ half of this fic more than a little AU, lol. I just thought I'd tell everyone before I got anymore questions.

Hey, is anyone out there not a watcher of _Charmed_? If so, _how do you read this story_? Up until now, this fic was pretty much centered around the show.


	14. Trust

Trust

**

* * *

**

Evelyn smiled down at Melinda, leaving her with a bright pink blush. "Hello, dear; as Caleb said, I'm his mother—Evelyn."

Caleb looked at the pair, confused. He had been under the impression they'd already met.

"Melinda," the petite brunette said, taking the much taller woman's hand in her own and shaking it softly. She was still so embarrassed; she hadn't even thought to introduce herself to Evelyn when they'd fallen over. The Halliwell woman vaguely wondered how bad of an impression she had already made on his mother, and they'd barely even spoken.

They turned back to Caleb, whom was still looking a bit confused as to what was going on. Before he could ask, Mrs. Danvers spoke up. "Melinda and I bumped into each other in the hall, and she was a bit lost." Here she quirked an eyebrow at her son and dropped her kind smile. "I take it you didn't show her where the kitchen was beforehand? I really thought I'd raised you better than to let our guests wander around the house, lost."

Caleb had the decency to look slightly abashed and stumbled over his words a bit. "Mother, I—."

"I don't want to hear it, Caleb, you—."

"Mrs. Danvers, Caleb and I got here so late last night all we wanted to do was sleep," Melinda cut in, hoping to ease the embarrassed look on Caleb's face, despite how funny it was not to be the one in that position. "He didn't have a chance to show me around, and I took so long getting ready this morning ..." she trailed off, telling the second lie she'd told in one sentence. She hadn't exactly wanted to sleep last night, and nor did she take that long to get ready.

Evelyn nodded, smiling again. "I suppose it's all right, then; just don't let it happen again, Caleb," she warned, eyeing her son. "And Melinda, dear—please, call me Evelyn."

Melinda nodded slightly, feeling a bit unsure about it; she probably would have to be corrected again.

"Well, then," Caleb's mother said, clasping her hands. "Caleb made us some breakfast. What would you like, dear?"

Melinda smiled slightly and sat down at the table across from Caleb, beside his mother. The three ate breakfast together and chatted a bit; Evelyn and her son kept the silence from taking over with a funny little banter between themselves, each trying to have the last word. As the time wore on, Melinda saw that Evelyn was a lot like her house – very proper and regal, with morals and a society code she felt compelled to follow. She seemed very kind, but stern in a way that Piper was not. Evelyn, she realized, was much more grounded in the real world than her own mother, who, despite wanting to be more human, was still focused on all things magical the majority of the time.

When breakfast was over, they excused themselves and separated; a maid came in to do the dishes, and Evelyn went elsewhere while Caleb took her hand and began to lead her through the house (_castle_).

The first few rooms Caleb led her through were all beautifully furnished, but quite similar: a parlor, a sitting room, a room with a fireplace, and yet another sitting room/parlor/room-with-small-couch-and-vases. She didn't exactly understand why there were so many, but Caleb said his mother usually held lots of parties and liked to entertain guests. He showed her the simply _ginormous _dining room with a table that could sit over fifty people, and the smaller dining room that sat ten people.

There were two rooms Melinda really liked out of everything: an office, and a casual living room with four big, black suede couches and a large screen television.

The living room wasn't like all the other rooms in the house. It had a much more modern feel with its glass tables and black, (marble?) flooring—no wood. There were no pillows on the couches, nor were there vases or cup holders or any other decor on the tables or in the room. It literally held glass tables, black couches, a remote, a big television and a few hookups for DVDs.

This was Caleb's own room, Melinda realized—it was probably the only room in the entire house, besides his bedroom, that he had been allowed to redecorate. When she looked at him in curiosity, he smiled and elaborated, running his hands over the couch's soft material.

"This is where the guys and I usually hang out. Watch movies, whatever."

"It's nice, but why is it ..." she trailed off, searching for the right words to describe it, without offending him. "Why is it so different, compared to the rest of the house?"

Caleb shrugged a bit, then answered, looking comfortable as he threw himself down on one of he couches. "Well; the Danvers founder built this house—in 1692. It's been kept in a very similar state since then, with the modern attachments, of course. The last people to re-decorate the whole place, top to bottom, were my grandparents, so it's probably due for an update," he smiled slightly, leaning to the side to look into one of the neighboring rooms—which looked ancient and regal and proper. "Every generation is supposed to keep the house intact and keep everything proper with the exception of a single room."

"And you chose to change this room?"

He nodded, then took her hand and brought her into an office. Large, floor-to-ceiling windows took up the outer wall that faced the back of the house; a fireplace took up another wall, and a desk was against the one opposite the door. In the middle of the room there were four cushioned chairs, centered around a short little coffee table but focused on the fireplace.

A thick layer of dust covered the entire desk, like no one had touched it in a long time. The chairs, table and fireplace, however, appeared to have been used recently.

"My father," Caleb began, pulling one of the curtains aside to reveal rolling hills that seemed to go on miles, then the tree line of the forest around the entire edge of the property. "Chose this room. It's his office, and sometimes we use it for meetings."

Melinda smiled, glad he chose to show this to her. "It's lovely," she simply said, not needing to ask why the room was no longer used—it was _still_ Caleb's father's office, regardless of whether or not the old man was dead; or at least, that was how Caleb seemed to see it.

"Yes," he nodded simply, "It is."

She looked up to him and watched as he looked around the room, appearing as though he were looking at actual people standing there, doing something—like a memory, Melinda reasoned. The room _did _feel a little more alive then the rest of the rooms, but there weren't any spirits or ghosts lurking around. It was more like ... Like Caleb's father's essence had stuck here more than in the rest of the home.

Suddenly, a thought struck her—what if it wasn't just Caleb's father? He had mentioned they had meetings in here, so perhaps the Sons before them did, too. How many of the fathers were dead?

Melinda reached over to him and tugged on his sleeve gently to get his attention. "Are the other guys' parents alive?"

He looked pretty taken aback by the question, but answered it nonetheless. "Both of Pogue's and Reid's parents are dead, and Tyler's mother is dead, but his dad lives here in Ipswich."

The petite brunette's eyebrows shot up. _Both?_ She'd really just been asking about their fathers, but their mothers, too ... It was awful. Melinda wanted to ask how the deaths had occurred, but held herself back; she'd already been impolite enough times today. She didn't know if she trusted herself to say anything, so she said nothing at all, instead looking up at Caleb with despondent eyes.

He caught her glance and lifted his head, smiling a dispirited smile. "I know," he said simply, humming softly and taking her hand in his.

Caleb led her back upstairs, pointing out all the guest rooms and his mother's bedroom, the servants quarters, and finally his own bedroom. When he paused before it with no intent of opening it, Melinda turned back to him and took it as a hint that he didn't want to go in.

"What's outside?"

One simple, innocent question led them through the kitchen and out the backdoor, where he took her across the large patio and to the back lawn. Almost all of it was grass, but there were a few plants here and there. However, Caleb didn't pause to show her the back deck, or the few pots of flowers his mother never had planted—he took her straight past all those and to the tree line of the forest, where Melinda dug her heels into the ground, eyes wide with fear and worry.

She gripped his hand tighter and shook her head, looking slightly pale. "I'm not going in there, Caleb. No _way_ am I going in _there_."

He turned around to face her and squeezed her hand. "Do you trust me?"

"That's not exactly the issue here—."

"Melinda," Caleb demanded, catching her gaze. His wide brown eyes looked—well, they looked slightly wild, she noticed; but all the same, they looked as loving and trusting as ever. "Do you _trust_ me?"

The petite brunette paused and _really_ looked at Caleb, thinking. Did she trust him? Had he ever done anything to make her not trust him? The man before her had married her so neither of them would die or lose their powers; he was kind and proper, never crude like his friends; he watched out for them and took care of all of them. He was their _Fearless Leader_ as Reid called him, and he was always taking care of them.

He would take care of her, too—just like he had that morning, when she'd been crying.

"Yeah," she answered, "I do."

Caleb smiled, his eyes shining in that way they did whenever he was truly and honestly happy, and not just smiling to appease anyone. "Then come with me; there's something I want to show you out here."

He started to walk, and she followed him in. They passed dozens of trees, and what felt like hundreds of creepy forest animals. The deeper they walked into the wood, the thicker the trees got, and the darker it turned. At first she worried it was getting late and looked up, but as the trees got higher in number, their branches started to close out the sun.

The pair walked for about a half hour; Caleb leading Melinda along by her small hand. Finally, he paused—but she saw no difference in the trees or the area. In fact, she could barely see at all.

"Close your eyes," he requested.

She rolled her eyes, but did as he asked and felt him come to stand behind her. Caleb place his hands over her eyes as an extra layer of warmth, and led her along, his chest pressing into her back and urging forward. It was more than a little unnerving to have him so close, especially since he was so much _bigger _than she was, but she allowed him to lead her her for another five minutes until he took his hands away.

Melinda hadn't even felt him lean down, but his lips were whispering in her ear, "Open your eyes."

He sounded so dramatic, it almost put a smile on her face—however, as soon as her eyes opened, her jaw dropped.

Caleb had brought her to a huge pond—_lake. _It was completely deprived of the trees that had thrived throughout forest that surrounded the back half of the Danvers estate, letting the sun stream through and brighten up the area. It was an undeniably beautiful sight, and there was even a small dock branching out onto the miniature lake, allowing access to a rowboat.

Melinda's eyes widened in surprise, and she looked up to Caleb, who was smiling down at her brightly.

"Do you like it?"

She nodded, looking out at the water again and kicking off her shoes and socks. Melinda took his hand and pulled him onto the dock's edge, where she sat and dipped her feet in the—surprisingly—warm water.

He settled down beside her, rolling up his pant legs slightly to put his feet in also.

It was a childish pose, and she'd never seen him in one like it; he almost looked like he was an overgrown teenager, and not an adult sitting there, leaning back and his palms and dangling his legs into the water. His longer legs were obviously in deeper than her much shorter ones, but still—he looked as innocent and naïve as she felt.

Caleb caught her staring at him and smiled, smiling almost wider when he caught her blushing again. This was beginning to be a regular habit for them, and he was quite glad that Melinda never caught him staring at her.

To distract her, he began to weave the tale of his family's history in Ipswich, and the background of the little lake. "When the Ipswich colony was founded, all the families—well, the Covenant ones—were really the heart. The only reason it flourished is because we Used to make the crops better; the people healthier; the land more fertile."

Caleb paused to look down at her and check her expression—she looked shocked, and he knew why; Melinda had been raised not to misuse her magic, or suffer the consequences. His family had been raised the same way, but the only difference between their families was that hers had self-control, and his was much more reckless, even though their consequences were fatal.

"This lake used to be the place where my great-great-however many greats, grandfather 'healed' the sick. The people in town were told that the water had healing powers, when it was really him using the waters as a front to help people."

She smiled; his Power didn't just hurt people, as the Aunts and her mother had thought—it could help others, too. It just had to be used properly and not abused. All magic was that way, Melinda knew. Some people just didn't care if they suffered the consequences or have enough control over themselves to care.

It was sad, really, but Melinda now knew why Charlotte had put the curse on them. They couldn't control themselves, and without her intervention, perhaps innocents would have gotten injured. Contrary to Caleb's Power, the Halliwells used magic only for the good of others, and not for selfish reasons. That was how magic was supposed to be—to help people—but some magic corrupted the users, like his Power. It disgusted Melinda to know that they loved their magic and hadn't seen anything wrong with how it was Used; perhaps Caleb knew now that he'd seen how her magic worked, but she doubted he could convince the other Sons that it was the proper way for magic to be used.

"How do you Use to help others?" she asked suddenly, glancing up at him in curiosity.

Caleb opened and closed his mouth—like a fish out of water. He didn't know what to say; how could he answer that when he _didn't _Use to help others? "I guess I don't," he replied, slightly ashamed when he knew all the Halliwells did with their magic was help innocents.

Melinda shrugged, unconcerned and hoping to brush off his reply to make him feel less embarrassed—Caleb was supposed to be the strong one, here, not her. "Then start."

He nodded; he could figure out a way to do that.

Caleb turned and opened his mouth to say those exact words, but a loud grumbling cut him off. His eyebrow quirked and he grinned as he realized what the sound was and where it had originated from—Melinda's stomach. "Hungry?" he asked teasingly with a glint in his dark brown eyes.

"Oh, shut up," Melinda murmured, blushing gently. "I _am_ hungry, alright?"

He let his flash black momentarily and summoned up a brown wicker basket beside Melinda. She gasped slightly in surprise, but glanced over at Caleb with her eyebrow raised in disapproval. Had he really just Used because she was hungry? _Yes_; and now it was killing him.

Caleb simply grinned and shrugged off her luck. "What? I'm Using to help people."

"I'm not _people_," she rebutted with a roll of her eyes.

"Sure you are. Besides, you could've starved, had I not gotten you some food immediately." Melinda opened her mouth to counter him, but he quickly silenced her. "Go ahead, open it. I know you're hungry."

Although all the petite brunette really wanted to do was sock it to him and grit her teeth through her grumbling stomach, she was hungry, and the basket was giving off delicious smells. "Fine, but only if you have some, too." Melinda wasn't about to eat in front of him if he wasn't going to eat at all; that would be so completely awkward, she wouldn't even know what to do.

As it turned out, Caleb was hungry and ate with Melinda, too. Just by opening that wicker basket, she found out a few things about him that she hadn't really noticed before: Caleb paid attention to her, and not just when she was talking; he _really_ observed her. She also realized he knew many things about her, only one of which was that he favorite dinner food—because she firmly believed in the fact that you cannot have just one all-around favorite food; Caleb knew _that_, too—for summer (the same philosophy that applied to meals and times of day applied to the seasons) was a very colorful Greek salad.

By the time they'd finished eating the delicious meal, the sun was setting. Instead of orbing the pair back to save time—plus, there was the fact that he might end up a little displaced—they walked all the way through the forest and back to the mansion, Melinda feeling much more at ease than before. When they'd returned, it was well past dark and the entire estate seemed to be quiet.

She stifled a yawn or three and he smiled, leading her back to her bedroom. They parted ways at the doors that separated them.

"Good night, Melinda," Caleb said, attempting to hide his own yawn as Melinda rubbed her eyes in exhaustion. It'd been a long day of exploring, he supposed.

The small brunette turned to enter her room and maybe sleep without disturbing dreams, but Caleb caught her wrist gently before she could shut the door completely, forcing her to glance sleepy eyes up at him in a questioning gaze.

"If you need anything, I'm in here, alright? Just come get me."

Melinda nodded and closed the door, knowing she would never, _ever_ wake him up in the middle of the night because she'd woken from a bad dream and was scared. Because that's what he was referring to, surely; how she'd woken frightened from her nightmares of his death and torture. Even then, as she glanced around helplessly for pajamas—her brothers still hadn't delivered their bags, and she was beginning to run low in the clothing supply department; though she couldn't blame them, it wasn't like she'd called to ask for her things or to tell them where to go—Melinda could summon the images of Caleb's mutilated body and blood-soaked clothes into her mind, making her cringe slightly.

It had felt so real, but it had to be fake. It just had to be; after all, nightmares and dreams don't come true, even if you were a witch.

And so the eighteen year old called Melinda Halliwell went to sleep in a modified version of the clothing she wore that day, attempting to ignore the odd feeling the room gave off; it was the same one she'd picked up on the night before, but it just had to be that it was an old house. She climbed in bed and settled beneath the golden sheets, feeling small and insignificant in the large bed.

She sighed and closed her green eyes, willing herself to fall deep into unconsciousness and sleep dreamlessly.

However, witches can't always get their wishes.

**.**

Caleb woke to a pounding on his door.

At first, he ignored it like usual. It was simply his mother, trying to bother him with something like she did every morning he woke up in the Danvers mansion. However, as he glanced at the clock and checked the time, Caleb found that it was not like every other morning he'd woken up to, since his mother usually woke him at a time much later that two-thirty in the morning.

This thought didn't immediately penetrate him into consciousness, though, as he was quite tired, and his eyes fell closed again as the pounding continued without his acknowledgement.

When the door's knocker was left unchecked, the door itself was pushed open, allowing for only more darkness to come in. It opened wide enough to make suitable room for a person around five feet to amble in quietly, then was succinctly closed behind that same person.

If Caleb had been more awake, he would have noticed that the person didn't whisper his name to see how alert he was; but he wasn't, and in that mild state he simply caught the sound of bare feet padding against the soft carpet of his dark bedroom, until the weight on his bed shifted. A hand pressed against his bare shoulder, and several things about that hand made Caleb Danvers open his eyes.

It was small.

It was clammy, and cold.

It was shaking.

He put two and three together and realized, even in that extremely mild state he was currently in, that the hand was Melinda's and she didn't seem okay, and she was definitely in his bedroom, sitting on his bed beside him.

"Melinda?" he groaned, always willing to state the obvious when his brother Tyler wasn't there to do so for him and everyone else present.

It seemed one word was all the small woman needed to launch herself onto him, latching herself onto Caleb a bit like a leech. Her cold, wet face pressed against his warm chest and he noted that she'd been crying—still was, if the drops of water he felt streaking his skin meant anything. He reminded himself that she'd come in there with a reason in the first place, and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close and situating her against his side under the covers.

"Shh," he hummed gently, combing his fingers through her hair like he'd done the previous morning, like he'd seen her brothers do many times to effectively calm her. It worked, and her sobs slowed to sniffles and shakes. Caleb didn't ask what was wrong, since it was probably a nightmare, like it had been before, and he didn't really care to hear about how he'd died in her dreams again.

Soon, the sounds Melinda had been making had all but faded away, as all he could hear and feel was her breathing against him. "Melinda?" he asked, hoping to get her talking so that perhaps she wouldn't fall victim to another terrible dream, but she'd already fallen asleep against his chest, and her head was comfortably situated against his rib cage—which was quite funny, considering her feet still didn't come anywhere near his.

She whimpered suddenly, and his arms constricted around her tighter, causing her to dig her fingers into his skin where her hand had wrapped around his bicep. He winced slightly, but it didn't actually hurt much. Caleb closed his eyes and fell victim to the comfortable position that had somehow worked out for both of them, forcing him to fall asleep again.

**.**

Evelyn poked her head in through his doorway, having heard a bit of commotion and wondering what the source was. She smirked as her eyes fell upon the sleeping pair, recalling James' words from that night, almost over ten years ago: _"Her name will be Melinda Halliwell, and she will not only be the the one to spot the chink in his armor, but also the one to find the strength lying behind it."_

It had seemed to cryptic then, but the image behind the words was clear as daylight, now—there was little Melinda, tucked deep into Caleb's side with his arms wrapped around her; she was relying on his strength right before her eyes. Evelyn was still slightly curious as to his weakness, but she let it be and closed the door, walking back to her bedroom with a smile wide on her face.

* * *

**AN: **I don't even know where this came from. So totally, completely random. Most of it was fueled by thoughts from reviewers: _... Can't wait for her to see Caleb's house ... Caleb and Melinda to grow comfortable around each other _.. But some of it was 'just because' stuff that was cute and fluffy and had been nagging at my heartstrings for a while. I guess it was mostly because we won't be seeing fluffy stuff like this a whole lot :[

Question of the day: If there was one scene between Caleb/Melinda (or any of the characters, for that matter) that you're just _dying_ to read, what is it? I might just include it, who knows?


	15. Boys Will Be Boys

Boys Will Be Boys

**

* * *

**

When sunlight began to stream through the bay windows in Caleb's bedroom, he knew something was not quite right.

His windows were always covered with his heavy drapes, pulled shut tightly so as not to wake him up when the sun came up. However, on that particular day, the curtains were not drawn fully and were cracked enough to let in a sliver of light that crossed his bed and streaked onto his face. When Caleb raised his arm to guide them closed with the Power, his arm didn't quite raise. In fact, it didn't budge at all.

Caleb's arm appeared to be caught beneath something soft and warm, something which, he noted with a slight sniff to the air, smelled _very _good. He cautiously peeked his eyes opened and turned his head, not wanting to get blinded by that light, and found a mop of brown hair situated on the center of his chest. The mess of hair was attached to a neck, attached to a back which had his two arms around it—one of which was trapped beneath it and against her skin, since her shirt had somehow raised against his skin.

"Mmm," the mop of brown hair seemed to moan softly, as a warm little hand tightened its grip on the shoulder opposite that of which the body attached to the head was closest. She turned and rolled her head on its side, allowing him to see that the mess of hair was actually Melinda—or rather, her hair.

Melinda was in his bedroom. In his bed. In his arms.

He paused to let those facts sort through his still drowsy mind, and found one of his hands reaching up to toy with her brown, slightly curly locks. As far as he could recall, Melinda had come into his bedroom after a nightmare—something that wasn't exactly comforting to Caleb, especially if it was another one about his death. He detached himself from her carefully and scrubbed at his eyes until he was more awake.

All he wanted to do was go back to bed, but he knew that wouldn't be possible today. He had no chance of falling back asleep, not anytime soon. He got up from the bed and checked his phone, frowning with a sigh as he read over a message requesting his presence at the office for the day.

There went his plans for showing Melinda around Ipswich, he realized as he got up and into the shower quietly, attempting to get ready without waking his wife up. Once downstairs, Caleb grabbed a cup of coffee in the kitchen and said a quick goodbye to his mother.

"Where are you going?" Evelyn asked her son, feeling very confused—he was, after all, technically on his honeymoon. He shouldn't be working.

He sipped his coffee, hoping for some energy. "I've got to go in to the office today; some impromptu meetings and training, stuff like that. It might be a while before I get back, though."

"Well, what about Melinda? Is she supposed to just sit here all day?"

Caleb's eyes sparked a bit mischievously and smiled. "No, you can show her around if you want. Have fun!" he called on his way out, before peeking his head back in the kitchen. "She's sleeping in my room right now, so you might want to wake her up soon—otherwise she'll sleep all day unchecked."

Evelyn had already known about Melinda's location in the house, of course, but she still wanted to have some fun with her son. "She's in _your_ room?"

Her son's look darkened, already knowing what his mother was thinking. "Don't you say it. I know. Leave it alone, Mother—and have a good time with her, please."

Mrs. Danvers just smirked to herself behind her mug, already planning the day for her and Melinda. Yes, they would definitely be having a good time.

**.**

"Melinda? Melinda, wake up, dear. It's almost eight," Evelyn repeated the girl's name, shaking her shoulder ever so gently. She'd already opened the curtains wide, so the room was filled with sunlight.

The Halliwell woman in the bed groaned and rolled onto her back, scrunching her eyes and opening them just the smallest bit. "Caleb?" she moaned.

"No, honey—it's me, Evelyn. Caleb's gone."

"Gone?" Melinda asked, eyes now wide and alert.

Evelyn decided saying that her son was gone was probably not the best speech she'd ever made and corrected herself. "He's at work; he was called into a meeting."

"... Oh," the petite brunette said, nodding slowly. She really wished that Caleb was there, waking her up instead of his mother; she already felt embarrassed enough and now her husband's mom saw her in his bed? And they didn't even love each other, really—how awkward.

Mrs. Danvers just smiled down at her new dress-up doll, and stood, not quite seeing the awkwardness of the situation—she was just plain excited to have the girl to herself. "Well, get ready and meet me downstairs, alright?"

Melinda simply nodded in reply and Evelyn left. She sighed and put her head in her hands, blushing a deep crimson now that she was alone and able to evaluate the situation.

Caleb had ditched her—in his bed of all places; it was like the ultimate sign of rejection. Although technically, the night previous hadn't been a one-night-stand since all they'd done was sleep in the same bed, maybe with some harmless cuddling, but that was all. Still, though—to wake up with him not there after crawling into his bed, seeking comfort, and falling asleep practically attached to him? Melinda couldn't decide if it was a slap in the face, or the cold shoulder.

Sure, he had to work; she understood that. But he didn't wake her up to say goodbye and show any form of acceptance to the fact that she'd slept in his bed with him. Caleb hadn't even left her a note! His mother had come to wake her up!

She buried her face in a pillow, but all that did was remind her of him—the sheets and bedding smelled entirely of that scent he had; completely unique to Caleb and probably all other guys that could buy a certain brand of cologne. She tossed the pillow away and stood to vacate his room for her own; it was time to get dressed and go face his mother.

**.**

Evelyn was showing Melinda seating charts. _Seating charts_.

When she had come down the stairs to greet Caleb's mom, Melinda didn't know what to expect—but she certainly hadn't expected what Mrs. Danvers had planned. First they had a catered breakfast, which was excellent, although Melinda had tried to help the staff with dishes. Evelyn had quickly protested and put a stop to her cleaning by dragging her out of the kitchen. Then, four women had suddenly appeared and given the pair a manicure/pedicure, which was nice albeit unnecessary and random. Melinda hadn't really come to Ipswich to get pampered by the Danvers in-house staff.

After that bit of fun, Evelyn had mentioned that she was planning a party, something Caleb she did quite often. Apparently she wanted Melinda's help, because as soon as she'd remarked that it was interesting, the elder woman had drug out her charts and diagrams and choices in napkins and cutlery. It was all a tad overwhelming, to say the least.

But to top it all off, her new mother-in-law hadn't even mentioned what the party was for, at least not in so many words. Melinda had a rather sickening feeling it was a type of coming out party for her and Caleb—to introduce her into their society.

She hadn't been positive of the idea at first; it only sprouted when Evelyn started going over the guest lists and telling her about each and every person invited. There were callers from Caleb's company, from Tyler's father's company, from Evelyn's side of the family, from the general Ipswich mass of society—there were even people from New York and Boston coming, and Melinda didn't have a clue to as whom they were. The variety of guests were so widespread that she'd even lost track.

It was just too random not to be a 'Welcome to the Danvers Family' party of some sort; there simply weren't enough of a certain kind of people to be just a specific kind of party.

"And this is where Christian Mills will sit ... " Evelyn was currently saying, pointing to a spot on the seating chart like Melinda was supposed to remember it—or maybe she was supposed to recognize the name from Evelyn's descriptions; she wasn't sure, but neither were occurring.

She'd been droning on, pouring over the seating charts and guest lists for over two hours now, and Melinda was starting to lose her ability to tune the woman out. She had felt a bit guilty for doing so in the beginning, but Evelyn just wasn't stopping—and neither did she appear to be anytime soon. If Caleb didn't come home and save her, despite how embarrassing and awkward whatever conversations they might have after that may be, she didn't know what she'd do.

Just as Melinda's head was drooping onto the table, the butler came into the room, looking as placidly kind and bored as ever. He reminded her a great deal of Batman's Alfred, in the non-witty sort of way.

"Ms. Danvers, a Mr. Parry has arrived."

Melinda's head almost immediately shot up straight, and her eyes brightened considerably. Evelyn didn't notice, or she pretended not to. "Pogue? Pogue's here?" she turned to Caleb's mom excitedly, hoping to be released like a puppy on a leash.

"Yes, yes—go see him and just leave me here, all alone ... "

But Melinda was already rushing out of her chair in such a hurry that it fell back. By the time Evelyn's exclamation of surprise at the fallen chair reached her ears, she was already in the hallway, latching onto his leather jacket like he was her best friend. He looked a bit shocked at her grip on his coat, but just smirked knowingly.

"Save me," Melinda hissed quietly.

Pogue grinned down at her. "It's what I do," he replied charmingly, detaching her hands from his coat and pulling her out of the house and to his bike. He passed her a helmet and she hopped on behind him, holding onto his waist.

"Do you save people from Caleb's mother often?"

He twisted to send her a smirk and a wink—and his eyes almost sparkled like Caleb's. "Only the ones I like," he joked before pressing down on the accelerator.

Pogue drove like a complete maniac. The way he sped around curves gave her whiplash, and he never stopped at stop signs or red lights. He cut more than four people off on their drive, but they all just waved at him—not exactly the reaction she'd been expecting. However, he drove so unsafely that Melinda would never ride with him again, if only she wasn't having so much fun.

She laughed and giggled during the entire ride, holding onto him for dear life. Apparently he wasn't expecting this from her, since he turned around to look at her in shock more than once; she didn't notice, though—all the blurs of color flashing by the outside of her helmet distracted her to much.

When they finally yanked—there was no way Melinda could call how they stopped rolling—to a stop, they were in front of a diner. Melinda hopped off immediately, having experience on her cousin Henry's motorcycle.

"You drive like an absolutely crazy person, you know that?"

Pogue just grinned and shrugged, slipping off his helmet and taking hers. He stifled a few chuckles at her helmet hair, and she managed to fix it quickly. "Hey, don't tell me you didn't enjoy it—I could _feel _you laughing."

Melinda simply smiled back, smoothing her messy hair into a pony tail. "But that doesn't meant that we didn't almost die, like six times."

"I like to live life on the edge," he mocked, leading her into the small diner.

They grabbed a booth and ordered quickly, leading Melinda to stare at Pogue in shock with her eyebrow raised. "_Two_ quarter pounders, three fries, a side of potatoes, and chicken strips?" she asked, fairly incredulous.

"I'm hungry!"

"It's not even eleven, Pogue! That's disgusting!"

He just shrugged her off and rolled his eyes when her iced tea—the only thing she'd ordered—arrived. "Now _that's _disgusting. Don't tell me you're one of those girls that doesn't eat anything; I've _seen_ you eat before, and it's scary."

Too her credit, Melinda just blushed and stirred in her lemon and sugar. "I just had breakfast with Mrs. Danvers, and she feeds like five hundred! I don't think I'll be hungry for weeks."

His food arrived, and the pair fell into a comfortable silence, interrupted only by Pogue's constant chewing. Shockingly enough, he ate his entire meal—which Melinda figured could feed a whole third world country—very quickly, eating it all in the same amount of time it took her to drink her ice tea.

Pogue insisted on paying, and Melinda barely let him do so; she felt like ever since she'd come to Ipswich, everyone had been waiting on her hand and foot, and she really hated it. It made her feel useless, and bored—she got restless easily, and had always helped her mother with the dishes, cleaning and other petty chores. It was how she was raised, and now the people she was with wanted her to go back on it. It felt vaguely like everyone was telling her to stop saying 'please' and 'thank you'; and she always felt very impolite for that.

Soon they were on the road again, but instead of heading back to the Danvers' estate, they went somewhere else. They pulled up in a mansion, otherwise known as _castle_, that was probably the same size—if not bigger—than Caleb's, but unlike Caleb's, it had a more modern feel to it. When she looked up at Pogue questioningly after fixing her hair again, he explained.

"It's the Garwin place—Reid's. He and Tyler live here during the off months," he said, accounting for the music that seemed to be shaking the entire place. The base was so loud, Melinda could feel it rattle her bones slightly. "It burned down a few years back after his parents died, so he rebuilt it the way he wanted."

"Oh," Melinda said softly, looking up at the large building with sad eyes. "That's devastating." He looked at her funny, so she cleared her statement up. "I mean, losing all of your dead parents' possessions, memories? That's harsh."

He shrugged and looked away shiftily, forcing Melinda to remember with a grimace that both of his parents were dead, too. "Well, the good news is that it's the ultimate party house," he said lightly, "They don't even have any neighbors to complain or report them. It's pretty cool."

She nodded and allowed him to pull her up the stairs and into the house through the big front door, shocking her by not even knocking. When she glanced up to ask her where they were, he simply explained that they were where they always were, and led her to the back of the house. Getting closer to the back door, Melinda realized there was a large pool out back, and Reid and Tyler were both lounging around in it, drinking—beers? Something alcoholic, she noted, even though it wasn't even noon.

_Boys_, she thought with a roll of her eyes. Caleb really was the only grown up one out of the four.

"Melinda!" Tyler greeted with a slight slur, making it sound more like,_ Meh-lindahhh_. He raised his glass, and he and Reid clinked them together, like they were toasting her arrival.

Pogue grinned and chuckled, throwing himself down onto one of the lawn chairs.

"Hey, guys," she greeted, standing awkwardly with her arms crossed. She really, really, _really _wanted to judge the pair of them and tell them to go get cleaned up and get lives, but she just couldn't—they just looked so ... So out of it. Like life was simply passing them by, and they were totally cool with that. It made her laugh.

Reid pinned her with his rather hypnotic blue stare. "Get in,"

"Wh—what?" Melinda glanced at Pogue, silently asking if he was serious, but the biker just shrugged and grabbed a beer out of the mini-fridge, obviously relaxing right into their life style. She regarded the pool, then the rising sun. It _was_ a nice day out. "I don't have a suit."

"So? Get in any way," he leered at her slightly, obviously hoping—or maybe expecting—that she'd just strip in front of them.

She rolled her eyes and tugged off her socks and shoes, momentarily causing Tyler's eyes to bug out of their sockets; however, she simply rolled up her pant legs and sat on the edge of the pool, dangling her legs in the water.

Reid seemed momentarily contented with the fact that she was somewhat in the pool, and used his hands to paddle his huge floatie over to her side. Once her leg was within reach, he grabbed onto it and used it as an anchor to stay in place, wrapping his hand around her ankle. She stifled a giggle when his fingers brushed a sensitive spot, but simply rolled her eyes at his antics—he was just _so_ drunk, it was hilarious. He was so high in la la land, he lifted his arm shakily to offer her his drink, whatever it was.

Melinda eyed it, the clear liquid sloshing into the pool slightly. She wondered how much alcohol the pool already contained, then shook her head. "I can't; I'm not legal yet, remember? I'm only eighteen."

The blond beside her just rolled his bloodshot blue eyes and snorted. "None of us are gonna turn you in!"

Somehow, his speech was clearer than Tyler's. Melinda had a feeling that this had more to do with the fact that Reid could hold his liquor better, and not that Tyler had had more. "I don't drink."

Tyler's head lifted shakily. "You don't—you don't _drink_?"

Reid looked just as shocked.

Pogue didn't move—Melinda figured the snoring meant he'd fallen asleep on the lawn chair.

"Nope," she shook her head, "I don't drink. I had a friend who died in a car accident, driving drunk—so I don't drink."

"That doesn't make sense," Reid insisted, still keeping a loose hold on her ankle. "You mean you gave up drinking in her memory, right?" She nodded, thinking that that wasn't _exactly _the reason, but it was close enough. "Then instead of giving up the good stuff all around, just don't drink when you drive."

She rolled her eyes. Now _that_ didn't make sense—she didn't drive, anyway. "I'm not going to drink, Reid."

He raised his free hand in a gesture that said, 'I'm innocent!' even though he was anything but. "Fine, fine—it's up to you, though. We've got plenty of stuff lying around; there's even some chick beer that Ty likes if you dig the sweet drinks."

"Hey!" Tyler exclaimed, apparently taking offense. He sat up too quickly on his floatie and fell in the water, his drink emptying out into the pool.

Reid laughed. Melinda just stared, completely confused as to what was going on in these two boys' heads. They were quite obviously mentally impaired. After a few minutes of garbling, Tyler managed to pull Reid in, too, and Melinda decided it was best to leave them be—they were getting into drunken splash fights, and were gunning for getting the now snoozing Pogue wet.

She vacated the pool area and decided exploring was her best option of staying somewhat dry—her legs were soaked to the knee, and her shirt was fairly damp. She celebrated the fact that she hadn't worn a white t-shirt, and started opening random doors to she what she could find. It was a little dangerous, since it was Reid's place, but she figured as long as she closed it quickly behind her, no one would have to know if she found anything disturbing.

Surprisingly enough, after searching all three stories, Melinda found nothing of speculative interest. Of course, she didn't exactly search all the bedrooms—even she knew that Reid's bedroom was bound to be sketchy. There was a gym, which somehow managed to connect between two floors. An indoor pool, multiple TV rooms, a kitchen twice the size of the Danvers', and a room that appeared to previously be a library, but its shelves were instead stocked with DVDs and video games. All in all, her findings weren't shocking at all; they were all simply very Reid-like.

In the end, she managed to get fairly displaced—Reid's house were fairly large, and he had more than one set of stairs. It was enough to confuse her. She ended up yawning and stretching, and checked her watch to find that it was already four, and she'd been snooping for several hours. When Melinda began to rub her eyes, she decided to take a nap and search for the kitchen when she woke up; her stomach was grumbling.

**.**

It was nearing six when all three of the Sons came in from the pool. They all immediately dried off and set about to grilling some steaks, and making some man-pasta, which Tyler insisted was much more masculine than plain old pasta. While their things were cooking, they settled down on one of Reid's big couches and watched some manly action movies, until their man-bubble was burst at seven when Caleb threw the door open, looking agitated.

"Caleb! My man!" Reid exclaimed at seeing his rather large friend, raising his beer as if to toast his entrance.

When the other two joined in with 'Here, here!'s, Caleb didn't even look the slightest bit confused, as if this was just what they did. He ignored them and grabbed Reid's beer, taking a chug of it before giving it back. His eyes flicked over the couches in the room, his brow growing more and more confused as he found each missing a certain person.

Pogue noticed the tense position of his friend's shoulders, and commented upon it in an oblivious fashion. "What's up, man?"

"Where's Melinda?"

In tandem, the three seated Sons froze. They all glanced at each other and simultaneously gained worried looks that rather matched Caleb's. He didn't seem comforted by their lack of speech.

"Uh ..." Reid hesitated, looking between his brothers. "Pogue, where's Melinda? You were the one to pick her up from Caleb's place."

The biker gulped and glared at his blond friend—oh, he knew what Reid was doing; trying to transfer the blame! Two could play that game. "Yeah, but you were with her at the pool; I fell asleep, or don't you remember?"

"Did you—did you _lose _Melinda?" Caleb asked somewhat more quietly than his other three friends were speaking. They either didn't hear him, or simply ignored him.

"Yeah, Reid; Pogue's right," Tyler spoke up, not wanting to be blamed for the disappearance of his best friend's wife.

"You _did_," the Danvers Son said to himself, in a rather shocked state of being. "You lost her."

Reid growled and stood, glaring at his rather traitorous brothers. "I didn't _lose_ her, alright?" he shouted at Caleb, losing steam. "I just ..." he hesitated and swallowed, muttering just loud enough for them to hear, "I just misplaced her."

Pogue and Tyler had to stifle their chuckles as Caleb palmed his face, exasperated. He murmured to himself, "I can't believe you lost my wife."

"We'll find her!" Reid replied, setting down his beer to look for Melinda. However, he thought better of it and picked it up again before heading out of the room calling, "Melinda? Melinda! Melinnnnnnnnn_da_! Where are you?"

Caleb quickly turned his glare on to his other two friends, whom also grabbed their beers and hurried out of the room, taking Reid's cue by calling her name out and randomly opening doors in hopes of hearing Melinda's reply, or finding her. Caleb, however, leaned against the back of the couch, feeling quite a bit like shit. His friends had just lost his wife, and he'd not helped at all—or even tried to stop them from doing so. He just left her at his home, totally and utterly defenseless to his friends' insanity.

He growled softly in irritation and rubbed at his face again, scrubbing himself alert. Caleb stood and joined in on the search, nimbly stepping up the stairs to the second floor since the first was apparently covered.

**.**

In the end, Tyler was the one to find her—sleeping, curled up on Reid's least favorite couch. He always said it was too cushy, and that he just sunk right into the cushions; which, in fact, was true. The couch absorbed whoever sat on it like mud absorbing more dirt. He chuckled and easily picked her up, Using to ensure that he didn't drop her. Not that he would—at least, Tyler didn't _believe _he would drop her; he just didn't want Caleb to freak out on him. He knew his best friend well enough to know that Caleb was extraordinarily protective over anything even relating to Melinda.

"Found her," he called softly as he stepped down a side set of stairs that took him back to the main hall.

Reid simply grinned and clapped his hands together once at the sight of her in Tyler's arms. "See, Caleb—I _told _you I didn't lose her. She was just misplaced; and it's not like she even noticed!" he laughed, but quieted when Caleb shot him a glare.

Pogue popped back in the room with a fresh beer, chuckling at Reid's words.

"I think this belongs to you," said Ty with a grin as he shifted Melinda into Caleb's outstretched arms as the elder rolled his eyes.

Upon the transaction, Melinda simply nestled further into her husband's chest and mumbled softly, as though she were waking up. She turned her head, still safely in his arms, and blinked up at him. "Hi," she said softly.

"Hello," Caleb replied with a laugh that the others joined in on.

Melinda seemed to just have noticed the others' presence, and turned her head to smile sleepily at them in greeting, seemingly perfectly comfortable in Caleb's hold. She yawned and sniffed at the air, noting her stomach was still grumbling softly. "What's for dinner?"

All four boys outright laughed; Reid was right—she'd never even realized that she'd missed anything at all.

**.**

Over the dinner table, Melinda noted that Pogue's table manners were just as frightening as they had been earlier that day. Reid's were marginally better, if only because he actually paused to swallow from time to time, and Tyler's were a great improvement upon both of theirs'; he seemed to actually know what napkins were for.

Caleb's, of course, outshined them all—but Melinda was just starting to think that Caleb was simply that way. He was, as Reid had said, the _Fearless Leader_; he was basically the most refined out of all of them, if only to keep them all in a straight line.

She suddenly smiled and thought back to her family in San Fransisco, the boys' manners reminding her a great deal of Wyatt's. "You know, Pogue," she began, idly toying with her leftover mashed potatoes as Pogue rubbed his extremely full stomach. She couldn't even tell he was listening to her, until his eyes darted up to meet hers at her next words. "I talked to Pru today ..."

Caleb smirked, knowing how his biker friend would react—Pogue didn't disappoint; he leaned forward, food and belly forgotten, eyes bright and intensely curious. He attempted to play off his reaction, obviously realizing that his friends had noticed it, too.

"Oh, yeah?"

Melinda's lips tweaked slightly, but she managed to keep her grin in check. "Oh, yes. She was really quite chatty."

Pogue pursed his lips. He knew she was baiting him, and yet he was too curious of Peyton not to ask it, Reid and Tyler's future mocking be damned. "... _About?_"

Her smile turned wry as she shrugged. "Mmm, girl stuff; boys, you know?"

The three other males at the table had to hold in their laughter as Pogue's jaw visibly clenched in frustration. Melinda was obviously being purposely vague, and was not about to let him in on her information if he wasn't begging. She could have her fun, too.

"Yeah?" he choked out, both sounding and looking strained.

Melinda nodded. "Yes. It was _really _interesting. Apparently, this guy she's interested in—he's long-distance, by the way—hasn't been picking up her calls. She's pretty peeved about it, and I guess she's going on a trip soon to see him; tomorrow, I think." Her eyes locked with Caleb's over the table, sending him a specific message. "With Wyatt and Chris as escorts."

Caleb grinned and ducked his head, looking intently down at his plate so as to hide his smirk. When Wyatt and Chris dropped off their luggage the next day, they'd be having a guest—or so Melinda said. He wasn't sure if she was keeping this fact from Pogue to surprise him, since he didn't know the brothers were coming over, or if she was just trying to make him mad; but either way, her new information _did _make him mad.

Pogue hummed softly, seemingly uncaring; however, the newly lopsided fork in his hand attested to the fact that he did care, and quite a bit.

Melinda smiled somewhat triumphantly, and Caleb grinned softly along with her, leaving Tyler and Reid—who were now _extremely_ out of the loop—even more confused than before.

**.**

Later that evening, Melinda and Caleb were back at the Danvers manor and Melinda was back to feeling dismissed by her husband. His smiles and secret grins from earlier had been enough to make her forget that he'd completely ditched her that morning, but now that she was back in the house she immediately remembered the rejection and was left feeling cold from it.

As soon as they'd made it through the door—after driving home from Reid's place in complete and utter silence in which Caleb wore a mask of confusion—Melinda had orbed out of the entrance hall and into her bedroom, feeling tired again.

After her chat with Pogue over the dinner table, Reid and Tyler got to talking with Caleb, leaving the odd pair out to their thoughts. Pogue was concentrating hard—at least, the pouty look on his face made him appear to be concentrating hard—on what could only be Pru, and Melinda was absorbed in her own little world, trying to think of her plans for the next few weeks, to which she'd come up with nothing.

Melinda honestly had no idea where her life was going anymore, and she was feeling slightly frustrated by it. She wasn't at home, so she was never needed for help in making potions or hunting demons; she couldn't work at her mother's restaurant, like she wanted to, for the same reason as the previous; she couldn't even be a whitelighter since she was no good at half the things whitelighters do. There was always college, but like her father, Melinda had never been much interested in the human world's comings and goings. She wasn't overly good with numbers, or history, and she'd never been in excellent academic—unless Magic School counted, since she did excel in her classes there.

Thoughts of the future often left Melinda feeling depressed. They always had, though—even with the triumphs of the Charmed Ones, Evil still existed and witches still died at too young of an age. Melinda used to often wonder if she would make it past the age of twenty-five. She didn't have gifts like her brothers did; she wasn't all-powerful, and sometimes the magic she did have goofed. Her orbing was enough proof of that.

By the time Caleb realized Melinda had been zoning out for over two hours, it was almost eleven o'clock and he was ready to leave. They said goodbye to the boys, and Pogue took off on his bike before them. He went in the opposite direction, to wherever he lived, and Caleb took the stupid, shiny, silver Mustang back to the Danvers estate.

Melinda wasn't sure that Caleb realized how she felt—rejected, dismissed, a little unloved—since he kept trying (and failing) to start a conversation with her. She kept up replies of one-word answers and truly hoped he got the message that she just didn't want to talk to him.

After the extreme awkwardness of the long car ride, they went through the front door and she orbed away. Melinda ignored the feeling that she'd just proverbially slapped him, and repressed her need to go talk to him, which was more difficult than it should have been, after that morning.

She immediately threw herself down on the golden bed, feeling like crap. Burying her face in the pillows' soft fabric, Melinda breathed in the scent of the sweet laundry detergent and sighed—it didn't smell anything like the kind her mother used at home.

That shouldn't be a startling realization, Melinda knew—the sheets are far too silky to be the scratchy ones of her bed, the room itself is too eerie and cold to be similar to hers at all, and she was not even on the west coast. She was in Ipswich, MA, and the reminder is more saddening than it should be.

She was homesick.

"This is ridiculous," Melinda murmured to herself, knowing that her homesickness _is _ridiculous.

Someone knocks on her door twice. "Knock, knock," a soft voice calls.

Melinda raised her hand and rolled over to face upward, greeting the knocker with some sarcasm. "Seating, pity party of one."

Evelyn laughed, poking her head through the doorway, looking much too awake for the late hour. Her eyes sparkled mysteriously, and her smile held a great deal of a salacious smirk in it—kind of like Reid's, Melinda noted. The elder woman looked very mischievous, and Melinda couldn't stop the feeling of dread that seemed to just wash over her body.

"I had your clothes brought to the laundry room," Evelyn said, and the smaller brunette frowned in confusion at the woman's joyfulness until she continued. "They're all being washed, so you'll have to borrow something of Caleb's to sleep in."

Realization at the woman's statement dawned on Melinda, forcing her to swallow ineptly. "Thank you," she choked out, paling.

"Of course. Have a good night, Melinda dear." Evelyn left and closed the door behind her.

Melinda again buried her face into the pillow, damning everything that came to mind. Her lack of ability to orb long-distance; her angry exit; her homesickness; Caleb himself, though she quickly took that back and turned her anger on herself.

"Wyatt," she hissed, whipping out her phone as she realized that even though _she _couldn't orb, both of her brothers could. Melnda repeatedly called his and their other brother's name multiple times, but neither reacted. Melinda dialed Wyatt's cell, but hung up when he didn't answer. She swore under her breath and called Chris, muttering, "You better pick up, you better pick up—."

"And look at that, I _did _pick up."

"Chris!" Melinda exclaimed happily. "Why're you guys ignoring me?"

Her elder brother hesitated, then quickly spilled his beans. Chris never could keep secrets from his little baby sister. "Aunt Pheebs won't let us," she opened her mouth to protest his first statement, but he intercepted. "And before you ask, I don't know why. She won't tell us."

Melinda huffed and used her free hand to scrub her face frustratedly. She knew there was no way around their seer-Aunt, and that the woman always had a reason for what she did—but she couldn't help but wonder what that exact reason was.

It had to be something coming up soon, an action or something—Melinda pondered what she'd been thinking about doing or _not_ doing and growled as she discovered the probable reason. Aunt Pheebs had always been a romantic.

Was Fate really so dependent on Melinda's going to ask Caleb for pajamas?

"Apparently," Chris answered. Melinda realized with a slight shock that she'd asked the question out loud and blushed. "Look, I gotta go, Mins—one of my charges needs me."

She frowned and dropped the phone when her brother hung up without saying goodbye. "Jerk," she muttered to herself.

Melinda was now running out of options. She was about to face the cold, hard facts: she had no pajamas, and could borrow from Caleb or go without—but she didn't want to borrow from him, since it would be incredibly awkward because of the morning's rejection _and _her fabulous, impromptu exit. Not to mention that Melinda really, really didn't want to sleep in this bedroom with its gold bedding—especially not sans pajamas—because of all the nightmares it gave her.

In the end, Aunt Pheobe's pushing and Fate made the decision for her.


	16. The Best Day of Reid's Life

The Best Day of Reid's Life

**

* * *

**

Caleb's door was overbearing. It was imposing, large, and slightly frightening—or at least, that's what Melinda thought about it. She also thought his door seemed a great big deal larger than the other doors too, but attempted to squash that thought, since it didn't quite make much sense logically. Why would his door be bigger than the others? It was utter nonsense—she was just afraid of it, but then again, it _was_ just a door. What Melinda was _really_ afraid of was what was behind the door. The door itself was a mere passage way; nothing more, nothing less.

If that was true, then, as Melinda was attempting to lead herself to believe, then why was she so scared of the door itself?

She stood outside of Caleb's bedroom for about six or seven minutes, not wanting to enter, but neither wanting to turn around and leave completely. As much as she was upset that she'd woken to Caleb's empty bed, Melinda would be even more upset waking from another God-awful nightmare in the horrible gold bed _sans pajamas_.

Melinda continued to stare at the door in a trance-like state, neither moving forward nor backward. She was so distracted by her thoughts, she jumped when the door suddenly swung open and Caleb appeared, looking stony-faced.

"Melinda," he intoned placidly, "What are you doing here?"

He sounded so calm, it was misleading—she was almost convinced he wasn't confused by her earlier actions. Then she quickly realized that this was simply how Caleb dealt with things, and swallowed, feeling nervous.

She didn't speak; she didn't know what to say. Caleb just blinked down at her expectantly, still looking unruffled, and it made her just so frustrated that he seemed so collected that she managed to overlook her belief (and probable fact) that his currently overly mild manor might just be his way, and Melinda did something very, very stupid in the heat of the moment.

She slugged him.

Caleb had enough grace not to gape at her after the hit, but she could tell he probably wanted to. His jaw clenched, but he didn't respond.

Unfortunately, his lack of reaction just seemed to make Melinda even more angry. She wanted a response of some kind—any kind. "You—You're a jerk!"

His serene mask fell, to her immense satisfaction, to be replaced by confusion and furrowed brows. Caleb wore confusion well, and it made him look a bit pouty and cute—there was no satisfaction in Melinda as she noted _that_. Rather, she attempted to ignore his handsome face as he spoke. "What?"

"If you didn't want me in your bed, you could've just _told _me so, or something. You didn't just have to leave me there to wake up all alone! I could've gone back to the other room, and—."

Caleb's reaction to Melinda's words was quite unlike those she'd imagined, and had been expecting. She had simply just wanted _any_ reaction, but Caleb laughing outright in her face didn't feel satisfactory, not at all. He did laugh, however, and he laughed very hard, until he had to lean against the door frame for support because he couldn't hold himself up. It was most unsatisfactory.

She frowned, crossed her arms, and turned to leave. If he was just going to keep laughing at her humiliation, she wasn't going to stick around and watch—or at least, she hadn't planned on doing so. Caleb stopped laughing enough to grab her arm and spin her around on the spot. He held her in place by her shoulders, canceling any escape plans her mind might've been forming.

"So _that's_ what this is all about, then?" Caleb asked, more serious now. He wasn't as poised, but more earnest and solemn. His eyes were twinkling in that way they had, though, and Melinda was forced to look away. "The pouting, the orbing, slugging me just now—all because I left before you woke?"

She hesitated, looking at her bare toes. "Well, when you put it like _that_, it sounds a bit stupid," she mumbled to herself, feeling more embarrassed by the second.

"Melinda, listen to me," he instructed, still gripping her shoulders softly, "I had to leave early for work. I didn't want to wake you because I felt bad; what with your nightmare last night, I figured you would want to sleep in. I didn't leave because I didn't want to—to be with you, or something," he hedged, and she held back an odd blush. "I knew you would be okay with my mother here, and I even sent Pogue over—."

"_You_ sent Pogue?"

Caleb looked slightly abashed. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously and broke their gaze to glance away. "Well, yeah—Mother can be a rather large handful sometimes, and I thought Pogue would be the most controlled out of all my brothers to come and collect you."

She didn't reply. Her brows were slightly furrowed, and she was trying to recall if—and why—she should still be angry with him. Nothing quite came to mind, so Melinda simply blinked up at him.

His brown eyes bored into her green ones, looking more pensive than ever. There was no trace of laughter in them, nor the twinkling that she had become so familiar with and fond of, almost as if that happy man called Caleb had never existed at all. He waited for her to speak.

She never did, however—instead, Melinda launched herself forward and threw her arms about his middle, breathing in his deep scent. Melinda was glad to not have a reason to be cross with him; it was tiring, attempting displeased with Caleb when he was so utterly pleasing all the time.

"We're fine, then, I guess," Caleb laughed.

Melinda nodded into his chest, and he relished in the feeling of holding her in his arms. It was comfortable, and they seemed to just—fit. He reluctantly pulled away only to tug her back into his bedroom, allowing him to shut the door behind her.

She stifled a yawn suddenly, and he held back a smile—was she always so tired, or was it only his presence that seemed to make her sleepy? Perhaps it was the nightmares, he figured, now looking down at her slightly worried. "You need to go to bed," he reasoned, face contemplative.

The tiny brunette watched as her husband's face turned from amused to fretful to brooding. She guessed the last of three was because Caleb was trying striving to work out if she would be sleeping in his bed with him again, or in her own. Melinda started as she realized why she had come to Caleb's room in the first place, the motive of which was very different than what had actually occurred.

"Oh—right!" Melinda exclaimed softly, looking a great deal tired. "I came to borrow pajamas. Your mother took all mine, and I think she's up to something, and my brothers won't bring mine and no one is answering their phones, and no one will orb over and I'm feeling very confused—."

Caleb smiled faintly. "Of course you can borrow something of mine to wear." He turned and stopped before his dresser, and hesitated momentarily, looking thoughtful. Not a moment later, he snapped back to reality and grabbed some nightclothes, turning back to offer them out to her, shrugging dejectedly. "They'll be much too large for you—just sweats and a shirt. Is that alright?"

She smiled back. "It's great; thank you." She walked forward to his bed and set the bundle of clothing down, not even pausing before following her instincts and stripping. Her fingers lifted the hem of her shirt as she felt Caleb's presence behind her turn and move away. Melinda could hear his steps toward the window as she covered her bare legs with his big sweats, which didn't seem to want to cling to her waist.

The newly married woman, paused suddenly, feeling slightly embarrassed for her actions. She'd thoughtlessly taken off her clothes in front of Caleb, after barely knowing him for two and a half weeks—how stupid was she? Her cheeks were burning as she thought back, trying to recollect what on Earth had possessed her to do such a thing. She'd just been following her instincts, she knew; but why? Sure, they were _married_ but they weren't _really _a married couple, in the exact sense of the term. They were more like friends—except Melinda wanted to be a bit more than that, she knew, but did he?

She buried her face in her hands momentarily, and jumped when a drawer slammed shut. Melinda whirled around and dropped her hands, and there Caleb was; he'd changed into pajamas pants similar to the ones she wore, but his fit much better. He smiled at her, his smiling growing into more of a grin when he noticed her hand gripping the pants to her waist. The shirt itself didn't fit too well, either—it fit like a dress and hung loosely to the tops of her knees. She rolled her eyes at his grin and let the pants fall, ditching them in a pile on the floor as she stepped forward to help Caleb throw the bed's covers back.

The pair climbed in on opposite sides and arranged themselves in the bed comfortably, quickly drifting off into a sleep-like lull.

"G'night, Caleb."

Caleb reached up his arm to flick off his lamp, leaving them in darkness so Melinda wouldn't be able to see his drowsy smile.

"Goodnight, Melinda."

"Sleep tight," she murmured, feeling eccentric. "And don't—."

"—let the bed-bugs bite," he finished languidly, recalling all the times Reid had jokingly said that to them when the boys had sleepovers when they were younger.

**.**

It was dark, Melinda noticed. Wherever she was, it was dark—and cold. Her head felt foggy, and when she reached up to touch it, her fingers came back wet and stained with blood. She grimaced and sat up groggily, groaning to herself. "Caleb? Caleb, where are you?" she whispered in a croaking voice, not wanting to speak too loud—to alert whom, though?

Her brow furrowed in confusion, she couldn't keep track of time or place; hadn't she just been sleeping in Caleb's bed?_ No, that wasn't right_, she thought. Something else had happened. Where was she now?

She couldn't see her hand in front of her face. Looking around for him would do no good. She called out again, this time a bit louder, and heard a rustle to her left. Melinda started and shook in fear, wanting to both back away from the commotion and go further near it to investigate. "Caleb? Is that—."

Someone groaned, the noise originating from the same area as the rustle. She crawled towards the person eagerly, reaching out with her hands. She choked on a gasp when her fingers brushed a pair of torn and ripped damp pants, like—like bloody jeans. Her hand trailed up the leg, following it gently; it seemed to be twisted oddly, like it was misshapen or broken. The blood seemed to not stem from this single wound, however, but from one further upward on the person's body.

As she brushed the upper body, chest, arms, and neck, Melinda found that the blood didn't emanate from a single wound at all, but _many _wounds—cuts, gashes, entire chunks of missing skin and tissues. When she finally reached the person's face, her eyes began to adjust and she had to wonder how this person was even alive at all.

Her fingers brushed calloused and slightly rough lips as they moved. "Mel—Melinda," Caleb's rough voice rasped.

She sobbed. "Caleb? How—how did this happen? Caleb?" He didn't reply, but his pulse still thrummed weakly against her fingertips; she could only just feel its pressure. "Where are we?"

Teardrops fell onto his skin as she leaned over him, and Melinda noted with slight shock that they were coming from her own eyes. She hadn't even realized she'd begun to cry.

A frail hand fumbled against her arm feebly. She sat back slightly and grasped at it, holding it within her own carefully. Caleb's eyes flickered open, faulting as he tried to lock them on her own. She stifled more sobs as she observed the severe lack of spark—of happy twinkle, of anything at all, really—within them; they were just a plain, dull dark brown, losing strength and depth just as Caleb appeared to be.

"I—I'm—." his voice cut off as he struggled to speak.

"Caleb, please—what's going on? I don't understand—." Melinda's words discontinued as tears poured from her eyes, and she started to sniffle and shake.

Caleb's hand suddenly gripped hers in one last act of strength. "Shhh," he wheezed, soothing her. "Don't—don't cry."

She could only cry harder at her own weakness; Caleb was dying and he was the one soothing her? She let out a wail and his grip became deadly tight on her hand, breaking any noise but a choke from her off. "Quiet," he said roughly, eyes barely strong enough to glance around in fear. "You might still be able to—to get out, but only—only if you're _quiet_." He emphasized, forcing out the words like they were his last.

Melinda looked around in hope, but it was still too difficult to see—there was a way out? They could get _out_, she praised, tears of joy falling from her eyes. Caleb would be alright, but they had to leave. Her hope suddenly wavered as he continued shakily.

"I love you, Melinda," he said hoarsely—like a goodbye, she registered.

She felt more confused than ever as she leaned back down to him, softly touching her lips to his—a kiss, but not their first or second, she knew. How did she know that? Her brow furrowed again as she concentrated back on Caleb, then on her knowledge. "And I—I love you, Caleb, but why—?"

He shook his head, and she noted with difficulty that it barely moved at all. The light was fading from his eyes completely, and the grip he had on her hand was loosening. Caleb didn't need to answer; Melinda knew. He was dying.

He said the words one more time, and she could feel his breath coming out in shorter puffs against her skin. His hand fell from her hold completely and his eyes grew unfocused. She wailed again, shaking her head, and beat one of her hands on his chest in an attempt at CPR. Melinda breathed air into his mouth and beat against his chest again, but nothing was happening.

She sat back, sobbing; her vision was blurry with tears, but she could still see his unmoving form.

Caleb was dead.

**.**

Melinda launched herself from Caleb's side into a seated position, and screamed.

Almost immediately, Caleb awoke too, and he sat up and pulled her against his chest. She began to cry and sob, and threw one arm around his neck while using the other to slug him with her fist.

"Why—?" she cried, her hits only ending when he grabbed her hand and tucked it between them.

Caleb simply held her tighter and kissed her forehead, running his fingers through her shorn hair and rubbing her back. "Shhh, Melinda—it's okay."

She fumbled against him. "N—no, it's _not_. Why does this keep happening to me? _Why?_"

He shook his head and continued to soothe her wordlessly, until she stopped crying, shaking and sobbing—until she fell asleep. He continued to hold her to his chest and play with her hair, in what had become more than just a comforting motion to her—it now comforted him, too. He murmured, "I don't know. I just don't know."

**.**

Caleb reached over to brush his fingers across Melinda's temple softly from where he was laying on his side beside her. She was still asleep, and he'd been awake for a while, but he couldn't bear to wake her up after the night previous, but neither did he want to leave her. He simply laid beside her, relishing in her presence and hoping that his own was comforting to her.

She stirred slightly at his side, and he pressed his lips to her forehead, smiling faintly. "Good morning, Melinda," he whispered, amused as she clenched her eyes closed and attempted to pull the covers over her head.

"_Figh mo' miniss_ ... " she murmured groggily, slurring in her exhaustion.

He chuckled and pulled the covers back, leaning in to blow into her ear in hopes of waking her up. Her eyes opened to slits, focused and glaring at him as she pushed her hand against his face to get it out of range.

Caleb rolled out of bed, not noticing as Melinda watched and eyed him, much more awake then before. He showered and dressed in his bathroom as she lounged in the bed, half awake and half asleep. When he came back out of the bathroom thirty minutes later, scrubbing his hair with a towel, she finally sat up and stretched.

"You're worse than your mother, you know that?" she smarted, glaring at him jokingly. He simply chuckled and took his towel from his hair, spun it in circles, and whipped it at her toes in reply. She jumped and rolled her eyes. "Very funny, Caleb—you're just a crack-up these days, you know that?"

He laughed outright and flopped down on the bed beside her playfully, grinning happily. "Oh, yeah—with you to remind me, how could I ever forget?" Melinda shook her head, glowering at him, but gave in when he readied his towel for a second attack and laughed.

"I give up! You're impossible!"

He smirked and threw the towel down. "And that's what I like to hear." Suddenly his demeanor changed completely, and he checked his watch, as if a thought had just occurred to him. "Hey, what time are your brothers and Pru coming? It's almost nine now."

She froze. "Oh ... I don't know. I hadn't thought—." she cut herself off, sitting more upright, until she had altogether jumped out of the bed and began to run from the room. "Crap, crap, _crap!_"

Caleb just laughed even harder as he checked his watch again. It was almost eight, not nine—but he'd known that when he'd told her.

**.**

Pru, Wyatt, and Chris arrived promptly at nine-thirty, orbing into the front hall after a conversation with Caleb over the phone. Because of the time, Melinda believed that she'd showered, dressed, and done her hair and make-up in thirty minutes, and not in an hour and a half, as was reality. The married pair were just walking down the stairs when the glowing orbs appeared and three new voices could be heard.

"—'re just coming with because of _Pogue_," Chris teased his younger cousin, despite her many rather loud protests. "_Pogue Parry_. Say, Wyatt—what d'you suppose his middle name is?"

Before the elder Halliwell could reply, the blonde cut in. "No, I am _not_. I came because Melinda is my best friend," Pru began as she spotted her cousin descending the staircase. She rushed to embrace her and faced the two males defiantly. "Isn't that right, Min-Min?"

Melinda looked extremely smug as she answered. "No, I'm pretty sure you came just for Pogue."

Chris and Wyatt cheered and hooted, leaving the bags they'd brought with them to the butler as they approached their sister and Caleb with matching grins. They greeted the pair with smiles, and in Melinda's case, hugs.

"Penny told me to say 'Hi' for her," Pru said, no longer disgruntled from the teasing.

Melinda's eyebrows furrowed together. "Why didn't she just come, too?"

The blonde shrugged and started to pick through the ends of her hair, looking for split ends casually. "I dunno, and I don' really care. She's still at that friend's place, and I know my mom's not happy about it—says they cloud her _Inner Eye_ or whatever," she said with a roll of her eyes, though Chris and Wyatt both gave Melinda significant looks. The brunette would gander a guess that Pru _did_ in fact care and that the situation was slightly more frustrating to her than she made it out to be.

Caleb seemed to notice the tense atmosphere, and immediately turned to the brothers with a smile. "Hey, Reid's got the newest Call of Duty, if you want—."

"You kidding?" Wyatt exclaimed, looking excited.

"We want!" Chris joined in, happily following Caleb and his brother out the door as they headed over to Reid's.

Melinda took her cousin by the elbow and orbed her upstairs so that they could get ready; she was going to take her cousin to so whatever they did when either of them was reluctantly in need of some girl time therapy—they went on a run.

Witches and others with magic didn't often do things the manual way—manual labor was a little unconventional when you had unlimited resources at your fingertips. However, physically going through something was much more therapeutic and relaxing then just temporarily magicking something away and having it come back to bite you in the butt with personal gain. It wasn't usually necessary, so the Halliwells didn't do it any more often than other magical families did. But when Melinda or Pru needed to get away from magic and their families, and just everything in general—they went on a run.

They put on athletic clothes, like any other person going for a run, and went out the door and to the street—headed, coincidentally, in the direction of Reid's house.

**.**

The Garwin mansion was quickly becoming a full house. Pogue, Reid and Tyler had already been playing a video game and drinking when Caleb showed up with the Halliwell brothers. They were fully welcomed, of course, as were the Matthews twins when Reid suggested—more like he angrily forced Wyatt until he called them, too—they come over and join the swiftly growing party.

When the second floor of the house started making noises, Caleb turned to his brothers disapprovingly, already knowing the answer to his question. "Is someone else here?"

Pogue sniggered, but kept his eyes focused on the television screen; he was attempting to beat Pat, a battle he was quickly losing. Reid ignored them both, picking at his shirt hem disinterestedly. Caleb simply turned to Tyler, who would never lie to their Fearless Leader.

The eldest didn't even have to speak before Ty willingly spilled the beans, not meeting Reid's eye. "It's Reid's new girlfriend—Christina. She's a model. They've been together for ... "

"Four days," Reid supplied in a mumble, still not looking up—unless, of course, it was to shoot Tyler a glare.

Caleb hummed, knowing Reid's dating habits were usually not that ... Well, not that lengthy. His _girlfriends_ of choice rarely made it past the first night, let alone the first _four_. And they never, ever stayed around long enough to meet him. Tyler had met almost every one, and Pogue had spotted a few from a distance, but Caleb had never seen one, or even heard one. He was very curious about this Christina girl.

Wyatt, Chris and the twins half-listened, more interested in the video game.

"Is she—uh, sticking around?" Caleb asked in what he hoped was a lighthearted manner.

The blond Son hesitated upon answering the question. He knew it wasn't a simple one—it was from Caleb; it had to be loaded. He could be asking if they were going to stick together for a while, or if she had moved in, or if he would get to meet her, or even if Reid was in love with her, or some shit like that. The Fearless Leader was just like that, much to his distaste, and he knew he'd have to answer carefully.

He thought back to Christina, and the day before, and how he'd completely hidden her from his brothers for three days because he was embarrassed. Christina was a big deal and he knew his brothers would know it immediately after meeting her; he wanted to introduce her to them, and he hadn't introduced _anyone_ to them like he wanted to with Christina. He didn't want them to know how big of a deal she was—hell, he didn't want to know it himself, and he'd known since just after waking up the morning after meeting her, when she was curled up beside him and he pulled her closer—but he _liked_ her, and he hadn't _liked_ a girl since he was in second grade when Janie Ricci circled _Yes_, that she would definitely hold his hand at recess.

Reid thought about her long blonde hair, and her smirk, and her playful ways; he thought about how she threw her head back and truly _laughed_ from deep in her stomach, and how it was so loud and free and how he was so jealous she could be so free; he thought about how, unlike Melinda, when he'd told her to get her ass in the pool, she'd jumped in on his floatie—fully clothed—and tipped him under with her. He thought about all that and so many other things about Christina for so long, that Caleb was getting ready to repeat the question in case he hadn't heard.

"Yeah," he nodded, speaking resolutely, attracting both Ty and Pogue's—neither of whom had seen the blonde yet, since he'd been keeping her to himself—attention. "She is."

Caleb grinned—Reid was finally going to grow up, and it was all because of some girl. It sounded just like Reid.

**.**

"—and I haven't heard from her since before she left, and some of my clothes are missing. Melinda," Pru said, panting slightly as they hit the three mile mark, "Something's up. I know Mom can't see it or whatever, but I can _feel_ it."

Meinda jogged beside her silently, thankful that the blonde had finally started talking. The first mile and a half had been like one long, horrible sprint that would never end—both going as fast as they could, until Pru had slowed suddenly and started jabbering on. "Well, does she usually try to talk to you when she's at a friend's house?"

"No, not usually—."

"And Aunt Phoebe's Seeing has started skiving off a bit lately, hasn't it? At least, in the area of you and Penny; you guys are probably her blind-spots, or something, like you inherited it."

Pru nodded, her blonde ponytail swaying franticly behind her as she pushed the pace up slightly. "Yeah, that's true, I guess—."

"Then it doesn't sound like anything's wrong, P. It just sounds like you're paranoid and need something besides seeing Pogue to stress about."

The blonde's jaw hardened, and she quickened her steps again, but Melinda kept up with her. Pru had been avoiding the subject of Pogue the whole time Melinda had been gone, and now that she was in Ipswich too she wasn't about to start up on him. "What about my _clothes_, Min? I couldn't find a ton of stuff anywhere, and I don't even know what's missing."

Melinda came to a halt on the side of the road, grabbing her cousin's arm to make her stop too. "You lose your stuff all the time, Pru; you'll find them soon. Now can we please talk about what's actually bothering you? This built up aggression thing doesn't work when you're taking it all out on me."

A ghost of a smile crossed Pru's lips, and she forced out the sentenced that had been bothering her for three days. "Pogue hasn't called me, Melinda. He hasn't text me, emailed me, psychically messaged me—." Melinda snorted. "—or anything else. He hasn't contacted me in any way, shape, or form; and I want to know why the hell not."

The petite brunette opened her mouth to answer, but apparently Pru wasn't done yet, because she continued, "I mean, I think he's hot, and I _know_ he thinks I'm hot, and we can see each other whenever we want and we're both into magic, or whatever, so I just don't understand. It's perfect—_we_ would be perfect. How often do people like us come across secret-free relationships where magic isn't a taboo subject? Seriously. So, the question is, why the _fuck_ hasn't he called me? Unless he's not interested, or something, which he totally was ... "

"Well, did you call him?"

Pru didn't answer. She looked slightly dumbstruck, as if _her_ calling Pogue had never occurred to her—which, from the shocked look on her face, it hadn't.

Melinda didn't need a verbal reply to know that the answer was obviously a big, resounding _no_. "And why not?"

The blonde seemed even more staggered at that question. However, she had answer for it. "I don't _know_."

They ran the rest of the way in silence; Pru looked thoughtful and contemplative, and Melinda just smiled smugly.

**.**

"I _told_ you I could beat you!" a loud, feminine voice shouted through the Garwin's front hall, signaling Melinda's entrance into Reid's castle—since she too had given up on knocking on doors she knew were open to her.

Caleb immediately stood, and looked around at his companions expectantly. However, none stood, all too distracted over the video game he hadn't been able to concentrate on. Wyatt, Chris, Pat, Henry, Reid and Ty were all absorbed in their on-screen battle, and Pogue was in the kitchen in search of more alcohol—he'd drank all the _real_ beer, and wouldn't touch Tyler's chick beer.

The eldest Son looked at his brothers and new friends disapprovingly, but left to greet his wife in the hall. She was leant against one of the walls, panting and drenched—in sweat, he assumed—and appeared to have ran there. Pru stood doubled over beside her, clutching her thighs and attempting to catch her breath.

The blonde huffed at her friend. "Yeah, yeah—you beat me, okay? I heard, Caleb heard, we _all_ heard," she groused, straightening up and nodding to Caleb in greeting. "But it's not like it was a fair fight, anyway," Pru ignored Melinda's exasperated cry of protest. She continued, "Since you've been here before, and I haven't."

"Oh, whatever, Pru! You're just a sore loser," Melinda smiled at her cousin and gave her a playful shove away, turning to grin at Caleb.

He smiled down at her, simply happy because she was, and reached forward to tug on the lower front hem of her baggy running shirt—which, coincidentally enough, was one of his shirts. Her cheeks flushed an even pinker shade when she realized her clothing choice, but neither commented on it. "You guys ran all the way here?"

The pair nodded proudly. "Oh, yeah! What was that, fifteen miles?"

Caleb smirked at Pru and shook his head. "Seven," at her downtrodden face, he reiterated, "Eight at the most."

Melinda laughed and leaned back against the wall, slumping slightly in exhaustion.

"_Ugh_, what stinks?" Reid complained, walking into the hall with a smirk on his face. "Oh, wait—that's just you guys, nevermind." Caleb slugged his brother as Melinda rolled her eyes and Pru stepped forward, looking prepared for a battle of the blonde wits, when she paused, looking back towards the kitchen door curiously as a voiced called out to the brothers.

"Hey, man, guess what?" Pogue yelled joyously, jogging down the hallway with a beer clutched in his hand victoriously. "I found the last—." he cut off, catching sight of Pru for the first time since he'd spoke.

He faced her, taking in her presence almost bashfully. "Pru." It wasn't a question.

Pru recoiled from Reid and turned on Pogue, stomping up to him defiantly, despite being sweaty and in gross athletic clothes and having her hair pulled back. She stood within an inch of him, and locked her eyes on his almost angrily. "Hey, Pogue?"

The Parry man swallowed. Caleb noted that he almost seemed embarrassed, or maybe that wasn't the right word—no, Pogue was definitely looking abashed; he wore a look quite like the one from when they were children, and they'd just been caught doing something terribly naughty. "Uh. Yeah, Pru?" he answered hesitantly, although he stood his ground.

"You're such an idiot," she remarked, before reaching one hand up behind his neck to pull him down into a kiss.

Reid hooted, Melinda laughed and Caleb just rolled his eyes with a smile. Ty peeked his head around the corner to see what everyone was up to, and scoffed. "Finally! Thank _God—_all that tension was killing me!"

Caleb watched as Melinda threw her head back and laughed even harder, reveling in her mirth. She looked beautiful like that, with a smile on her face that seemed to stretch for miles, even if she could use a shower to clean up.

Pogue finally pulled back from their kiss, breathing heavier than was probably socially acceptable, but Caleb was willing to look over that for the moment. The long-haired biker had his hands around Pru's hips, gripping her waist. "You're sweaty," he remarked in his gravelly voice, making Pru grin. "It's kinda hot."

"Okay, that's enough, people—get a room! There are children present!" Reid called to the lovebirds, covering both Tyler and Melinda's eyes with his pale hands. Tyler instantly pushed the blond away, looking disgruntled and embarrassed, but again, Melinda just laughed and playfully swatted him away. "Well, this has all been really cute, y'know—." Pogue glowered at his brother, and Caleb had to hide the smirk that came to his lips. "But you guys really _do_ stink. So how 'bout we go for a dip, hmm, ladies?" He rubbed his hands together mischievously, waggling his eyebrows at them.

"Reid," Caleb warned, "I don't think they want—."

Pru looked up hopefully, obviously in desire of a shower. She cut him off. "Of course we do! Don't we, Melinda?"

Melinda glanced around shiftily. "Uh, sure. That's fine, I guess—."

And that was all Reid needed to grab Tyler and take off for the pool, the pair already in their swimming trunks.

**.**

Five minutes later found everyone but Wyatt and Chris outside. Tyler, Henry and Pogue were in the pool—either in boxers or swim shorts; Pat and Reid had stripped down to shorts and were laying out, hoping to actually get tan and decrease their flaming whiteness, and Caleb had loosened up enough to sit down and relax with a beer. Melinda and Pru, sat on the pool's edge with their legs in the water, similar to how Melinda had the last time she'd been at the Garwin mansion. The Halliwell brothers had left, claiming their mother had been calling—something that Melinda had smirked at, no longer being under the influence of her mother's whims.

"Ah," said Reid, "This is the life."

From beside him, Pat smirked and Caleb rolled his eyes, taking another swig of this beer. "And here I thought you'd finally grown up, Reid—however, now you're sitting poolside and wearing Sponge Bob _Bikini Bottom_ swim trunks."

"Hey!" the blond replied, feeling disgruntled. "I _am_ grown up. Growing up just so happens to be the _shit_ and includes being able to wear whatever kind of clothes you want, so buzz the fuck off, tighty-whities."

Caleb looked murderous. "_Reid_—."

Melinda sensed a fight, and turned to look back at the squabbling pair with her eyebrows raised. "Actually, Caleb wears boxers."

The poolside group fell silent. Pru was regarding her small brunette cousin with an incredulous gaze; Caleb's cheeks appeared to be flushed a pink shade while he simultaneously thanked the lord that the other three playing in the pool hadn't heard; Pat was sniggering softly; and Reid had refocused on Melinda, leering at his brother's wife.

The Halliwell woman didn't understand what she'd said wrong until Reid opened his mouth.

"Oh, _really?_"he asked, eyebrows raised high, tone of voice mocking and taunting, "And just how, may I ask, would you know that?"

She swallowed nervously and blushed a deep red from her head to her toes. "I—well, uh—." Melinda stuttered hopelessly, embarrassed that she'd even mentioned it, embarrassed that she even _knew_ that, and even more embarrassed that everyone now knew that she knew it. She also felt slightly embarrassed for being ashamed of admitting she'd known, which was very conflicting. She didn't know what to say.

Thankfully, she never got a chance to reply. A woman's voice interrupted her futile mutterings, cutting them off. "Reid? Reid, are you out there?"

Caleb suddenly dropped his blush and grinned, glancing at his blond friend for a reaction.

Reid ignored his friends' looks, as everyone else had gotten curious as to the woman now, and called back to her, "Yeah, babe—come on back."

The fresh silence was cut by the soft padding of bare feet against hard floors, and then—"Finally, Reid. I thought you were going to hide me away forever. I could've died in there, what with that lack of _real_ people interaction."

"Hey! _I'm_ real people!"

A blonde woman stepped outside, wearing only her bathing suit, and smirked. "No, you aren't, and you know it, too." She walked along the grass, taking no notice of the eager stares all the home's current occupants had pinned her with. "Besides, you're not _people._ You're just a man."

Reid grinned one of his winning smirks up at the blonde woman as she sat down on his lawn chair, leaning back against his chest. "Sure, I am. Whatever you say, baby."

She rolled her eyes and glanced around at Reid's guests, as if observing their presence for the first time. "Hey, ya'all—I'm Christina."

Melinda smiled at her, noticing everyone do the same, too. The girl—_woman_, since she was definitely a few years older than Pru and herself—didn't have a southern accent, or even the slight twang that the Sons had when they pronounced the letter O, being from Massachusetts, but she still said _ya'all_. It was cute.

Everyone introduced themselves, and she smiled cordially at each person, but perhaps a little less cordially at Pru, for whatever reason. Her gaze wavered when it landed on the blonde, flickering back to Melinda and Pat then Henry, and almost widening with surprise before smiling sweetly again, as though the flickering lapse of smile had never occurred at all. Melinda ignored the odd happenstance, thinking that perhaps she just recognized them to be related.

Alongside Reid, Christina and Pat struck up a conversation—probably about shoes, and Reid grew bored. He turned his sights back on his two new favorite people to mess with: Pru and Melinda, or so it seemed. "I thought we agreed that the pool was for swimming and detoxing your stench, ladies?"

Melinda smiled behind her hand, but it was Pru who rolled her eyes and shot back an answer. "It might be easier, numnuts, if we had _swimsuits_."

Yes, that was definitely a problem, Melinda thought. She was capable of going in her underclothes, not that she actually would though; but Pru ... Well, Pru's underthings weren't as presentable to the public, even if her cousin was a least shy as she could be about it.

"Just go in your underwear!" Tyler shouted over to them, before Henry dunked him.

Pogue grinned over at Pru, obviously thinking she would take his advice. "What he said," he told her, nodding to Ty.

Melinda shifted uncomfortably, both because she knew what was about to happen and because she felt a gaze on her back—Caleb, no doubt. She tried not to think about how he'd probably seen her in her underwear just the day before, when she borrowed his clothes and for whatever reason, didn't change in the bathroom. Her cheeks flushed at the reflection of it in her mind.

"Well, that'd be alright, I guess," Pru said with a nasty grin. Melinda clenched her eyes tightly closed, wishing she wasn't there. "If I were wearing any."

Even if Melinda couldn't see everyone's reactions, she could hear them—someone in the pool started choking, someone else had spewed their drink, Reid was cackling with heinous laughter, and Pat was sniggering. She buried her face in her hands, feeling embarrassed for her cousin, who never seemed to be ashamed of anything, especially not her lack of underwear.

"N—_none?_" Tyler asked, incredulous. When she opened her eyes again, Pogue was holding him under the water, though his attention still seemed pretty focused on Pru. He obviously wanted to hear her answer as well.

"I'm wearing a bra, idiot. Did you think I'd just run over here without one? Jesus. I'm just going commando. I hadn't exactly planned this!" Pru seethed when Pat sent her a knowing, disbelieving look. Obviously, he seemed to think that she _had_ planned it.

"This—is—the best—day—of—_my life!_" Reid shouted, amid gales of laughter.

Christina smacked him upside the head lightly, and turned to the female cousins. "I have some extra bikinis that might fit you guys, y'know, if you want to use them."

"_Noooo!_" Reid cried petulantly, apparently thinking the idea of Pru wearing a swimsuit and not her birthday suit was entirely disagreeable. He looked ready to protest further, but Pogue shot him a dark glare that silenced the blond immediately.

Pru stood and pulled Melinda up with her. "Yeah? That'd be awesome, thanks!"

Christina smiled kindly, dispelling all the notions from Melinda's head that she'd not seemed to like Pru from before and replacing them with an obvious like for her feminine companions. She led them into the house, through the upstairs and to the top floor, to the cleanest bedroom she'd ever seen in her life—even more so than Caleb's.

"Whoa," Pru commentated, "Who's the clean freak in here?"

Reid's girlfriend gestured to the completely dirty half of the room, covered in female clothing, jewelry and more. "Not me, trust me."

"_Reid?_"

"Yep. Check out the closet—each hanger comes with its own belt, shirt, undershirt, matching hoodie, and pants." She smiled, "I think it's kind of cute."

Pru muttered to Melinda while Christina sorted through her swimsuits. "This woman is delusional, Min-Min. _Nothing_ about Reid is cute; the word itself has connotations of innocence."

**.**

"—Um, Christina, I'm not so sure this is gonna fit—we're not exactly the same size or shape," Melinda was saying from inside.

"But you're tiny! I mean, you may be a bit more—curvy—but it will fit!"

"That's my point—."

"Melinda, shut up. You look awesome," Pru cut in roughly, sounding a bit put out with her cousin.

Pat chuckled, probably thinking of how the pair interacted, and Reid quickly silenced him, wanting to hear the rest of their conversation.

Caleb looked on disapprovingly. "Guys, this is horrible. I can't believe you're eavesdropping on them—." A squeal from the upstairs' bedroom's open window cut him off, and he looked up at the window, alarmed.

"That isn't supposed to go there! Stop—don't—I'm _ticklish!_" Another squeal sounded, followed by a mass eruption of giggles and laughter.

"Are you really? That's quite cute. In a bit of an awkward spot, though," Christina pondered aloud.

"I didn't know you were ticklish there."

Reid looked even more interested in their conversation because of its latest turn in direction, if that was possible. He shot Caleb a glare that clearly didn't do Pogue's fierce one justice, and looked back up at the window, hoping for more information on Melinda's ticklish spots.

"Well, it's not like I go around proclaiming that my—." giggles masked her word, and the blond looked quite let down that he couldn't overhear it. Caleb just looked at his brother, disgusted. He was an even bigger pervert than he'd previously thought, apparently; maybe Reid wasn't as grown-up as Caleb had thought. "—is ticklish! Now stop! It's not funny."

Pru purred something in a low voice, and then a smacking sound could be heard. Later, Reid would claim to anyone that would listen that she'd said something about Caleb thinking it was funny. No one believed him.

Melinda appeared to finally have gotten the bathing suit on, because the next thing they heard was—"I don't think this covers everything, guys ..." in a rather downtrodden voice.

Christina replied first, sounding like she was holding in laughter. "Well, it covers enough, and that's what matters."

"Yeah, Min-Min, it covers all the important parts."

"_All _my parts are important, P. And I'm pretty sure that right there, that non-covered bit, is definitely important."

Pat had to hold his hands over Reid's mouth to stop him from howling in laughter. His shoulders were shaking, and his face was going purple, and his eyes were fixed on Caleb, who had downed his second beer in one gulp after those enlightening words from Melinda.

"Maybe not that one, then," Christina remarked, and the whole process of dressing Melinda started up all over again.

Reid still agreed with his earlier thought—today was most assuredly the _best_ day of his life.


	17. Ipswich: A History

Ipswich: A History

**

* * *

**

Caleb's hand held her own carefully, like it was fragile—which, Melinda supposed, compared to his own, it was. His was heavy, tough, and slightly calloused, though she couldn't imagine why. Her own hand was pretty small in juxtaposition; like any other girl's hand, it was probably dainty and weak-feeling. It made her jealous that simply because Caleb was born male, he was born stronger than she was; physically, at least.

If she had been born male, life would've been very different for Melinda. It wouldn't necessarily be better, just different. She might've been able to have powers like the ones her brothers had; she could've been stronger, faster, more physically able for anything; she wouldn't have had to marry anyone on her eighteenth birthday.

If Melinda had been born male, life would have been a lot less interesting.

Her parents were loving and never faulted her for her defective powers or her weak body. They didn't make her marry Caleb, she chose to do so. Life as a female was perfectly fine, if slightly above average on the human scale, and she never failed to enjoy almost every single minute of it.

Caleb's hand suddenly squeezed hers gently to attract her attention, and she blinked up at him, finding him to be looking down at her with an enquiring expression on his matured face. "What are you thinking about so hard?"

"Life," she answered simply, then reiterated since she figured he actually wanted to know and wasn't just being polite. "And how things could've turned out differently."

The furrow between his eyebrows cleared suddenly, and his long strides seemed to slow slightly as they walked. "Oh—you mean, with your brother?"

Melinda stopped, confused, and tugged Caleb's hand to make him stop also. Her brother? "Which one?"

Caleb looked up at the Danvers Colony House that they had paused in front of, then across the fields at the charred remains of the Putnam barn that had never been rebuilt. She followed his gaze, remembering the barn as the site of his showdown with Chase Collins—without warning, a memory of their conversation all those weeks ago came back to her.

_"How? How could you possibly know what it's like—to murder your own brother; to even have a brother that evil you wanted him dead?"_

She swallowed, putting the pieces his train of thought had left her together. Caleb had been thinking of Chase, his evil 'brother', and had instantly thought of Melinda's 'evil brother'. She had said she would tell him all about that experience someday, hadn't she?

Caleb took notice of her hesitancy to reply. "You don't have to tell me now; I completely understand—."

"The year was roughly 2020, I think," she began, causing Caleb to send her an odd look. "I'm not entirely sure about all the dates, since I'm the only one that remembers the future, and even then it's fuzzy and unclear at most." She glanced over at him, but he was quiet, like he knew she needed to get it all out without any interruptions. "I'm not positive why I remember it at all, since no one else does and we aren't _supposed _to remember things that haven't happened—but I do, and that's that.

"They—the memories, I mean—began a few years ago, around the same time my powers started acting up too much for me to go to a real school. They were developing too fast for me to handle, and I had to do these exercises with my Aunt Pheebs for controlling my emotions. The practicing helped, until I started remembering things that hadn't happened to me."

She looked up suddenly, and he realized with a start that her eyes were wet with unshed tears. "The first one was my parents and all my family's funeral. The deaths of the Charmed Ones and their loved ones was renowned in this—this 'alternate reality', I suppose. Chris disappeared, going into hiding but secretly starting a rebellion. Most of my cousins were hunted down; Pru, Henry, Pat—all murdered because Wyatt declared it."

"Wh—what? But Wyatt's not—."

"Evil?" Melinda asked with a dark chuckle. "Yeah, well; he may not be evil _here_, but he was _there_. It was horrible, the number of magical beings killed because they could potentially overthrow him and his horrible reign over the underworld. Magic was never meant to be feared like it was in those memories—it's meant to be beautiful, and helpful." She looked towards the remains of the barn. "But those memories changed me, and made me fear it, too; I guess that's why I have such a horrible time controlling it now." Melinda shrugged, like it wasn't important, and looked back up at Caleb.

He seemed to be sorting out things on is own without her telling him them. "So you killed Wyatt?"

"Yes. I had better control over my powers in that time, and had expanded beyond what I could even think of today, and could easily do whatever I wanted. Fortunately, that happened to be working for Chris by infiltrating Wyatt's team ... " Her eyes appeared glazed before she blinked, startling herself back into the present conversation. "I loved him, even when he was evil. It was one of the worst things I could have done, but my love for him was unconditional, and I think that on some level ... He may have loved me, too.

"It's difficult to understand, but the Wyatt you know now is nothing like the one I knew. The one from—from that other place—was warped. He was really evil, and just so _dark_; he didn't seem to be capable of an emotion besides hatred and wrath. But he kept me alive, even after finding out we were related; if he'd found Chris again, he would have killed him almost immediately after all that he'd done, but he spared me from the same fate. And I killed him, using his weakness—me. It was a small one, to be sure, but I was still there, a liability."

She shuddered suddenly, and Caleb reached out to pull her close to him, but she stepped away. "The things I had to do to kill him were monstrous. I had to tear him apart, and make sure that no one could ever find any traces of him or his evil magic. It took a long time, and then abruptly it was all over—the memories stopped there, and I'm assuming it's because the timeline for everything to occur is completely off; nothing that happened there happened here and vice versa. I think it's impossible for both realities to coexist, and that's because of Chris.

"My plan was taking too long. The rebellion was running out of time. Chris went to the past to save Wyatt from turning evil, but neither of them remember it since it didn't happen. My parents, however, remember it quite well. They knew future-Chris for a long time before realizing he was a Halliwell. They call this reality we live in 'the Changed Future', like those memories I have could actually have happened if Chris hadn't gone back."

"But they didn't actually occur, then?"

Melinda shook her head. "No, I suppose not; but they certainly _feel _like they occurred. I remember having to kill him, Caleb—my own brother—and it didn't even help any in the end. I'll never forget the feeling I got when I was done—like I'd just ripped my soul to shreds trying to go against my nature, killing someone whom should've been a loved one." She reached out for his hand, rubbing his palm with soothing circles. "That's how I knew what it was like, when I asked about Chase." Caleb's hand stiffened in her grip, but her hands tightened around it and she refused to let go. "He should have been your loved one, Caleb—."

"But he wasn't," he countered in a low voice.

She reached up to cup her free hand around his cheek, gently forcing him to meet her eyes. "I just want you to know—it's not wrong, thinking about what you had to do sometimes. There was no other choice, in the end, Caleb; Chase was corrupt. But that doesn't mean that it's not alright to feel guilty about killing him. He was your brother, no matter how different of a brother he was compared to Pogue, Reid, or Tyler." He opened his mouth to interrupt her, but she cut him off. "No, if he had been raised with you like the other Sons were, he would've been like a brother. Don't deny it."

He smiled slightly, and his eyes looked sorrowful. "I wasn't going to deny it, Melinda; you're right. It just makes me ... Regret it all, I suppose."

Melinda looked up at him in confusion, and let her hand drop from his face, though she still held his hand in her other steadily. "What do you mean, _all?_"

Caleb turned to look at the slightly decrepit house before them. "That's why I wanted to bring you here—I want you to know everything that happened, all of our history; I want to fill in the blanks that your ancestors left you. You should know it all."

"Okay," she said, still not understanding his cryptic answers. She allowed him to pull her into the house, and listened attentively as he spoke. He seemed in need of getting it all out, telling her _everything_ like he had said, as though it had been bottled up inside him forever, like her own story had been.

**.**

Her fingers brushed the shelves, covered in books, and came back with thick layers of dust. "You haven't been down here in a long time," she observed.

Caleb shook his head sadly. "No, I haven't. I used to love coming here and reading all about our history; I spent all my free time here when the others were off goofing around." His brown eyes glanced around the room, taking everything in, and recalling all the memories the hidden meeting place held. "I stopped coming here after senior year. After the Chase thing had blown over, and the guys had all safely Ascended, there was no need to come here."

Melinda's eyes fixed on the stone chairs, shaped similar to thrones. They each read a different last name; the Putnam chair was by far the dirtiest. The chairs themselves formed a circle around a fire pit, looking like a focal point, or a meeting spot. Her heart felt heavy as she thought back to his father's office, and the empty chairs there that were for Covenant meetings.

"Why did you bring me here?" she asked seriously, standing beside the 'Danvers' chair.

He looked away from her and towards the shelves. "I wanted you to know my history," he said simply.

Melinda seemed to think that wasn't an adequate answer and shook her head, but didn't press him further.

Caleb ignored her response and stood behind the 'Putnam' chair, bracing his hands on the back of it. "We came to America because of witch-hunting in Europe. Ipswich was the perfect choice—far enough from the rest of the colonies to have our space, but not so far as to arouse suspicion. The families founded the town, and settlers followed, hearing of the fruitful soil, thick forests, and lush countryside. As it grew, it flourished. The sick were healed; there was never a drought or a dry season for crops; and children never died."

She nodded along; he'd told her most of this before, at the lake.

"There was peace between the five families, and for the first time—everyone was safe. Of course, the Power was only Used secretly, although not sparingly. Everyone was happy with the new way of life, except for the Putnams. John Puntam's wife had died, leaving him with seven children to look after. He wanted to bring her back, but the only way was Dark magic, and as he learned to use it, it corrupted him. He soon got distracted with the Dark magic, and never brought his wife back. Instead, he grew thirsty for more power and sought it out. He was greedy, and hurt many people trying to get whatever he wanted. As punishment, the other families brought disease upon his family, and only one of his children survived.

"Our families made the deal with Charlotte Warren for her daughter's safety, but John wasn't happy with his end of the deal, and she set a curse upon all the families, leaving the wives nearly barren and the husbands nearly infertile, and the Power became addictive to control its usage. Charlotte and many of the Founders' children were burned at the stake when charges of witchcraft came to the States, leaving only one son as a sole heir per family.

"Putnam proved insatiable, though, even with his restraints, and his last heir was struck dead; the others turned him in as a witch, and just before he burned he appeared to a woman as an incubus, leaving her to fall pregnant with a son that would end up producing Chase. After hearing of what he saw as the families' betrayal, Chase hunted us down to steal our Power and finish us off too."

Melinda froze; she had been pacing between the 'Parry' chair and the 'Danvers' chair while he spoke, but now she stood still before the latter. The history of Ipswich—only the Covenant families, really—told more like a fictional story, or a summary on the back of a YA novel. It didn't sound like the truth at all; how could the truth be that terrible?

In real life—whatever that meant anymore—children weren't killed because of their parent's faults. Dark magic and those corrupted by it may have been popular in Melinda's world, but she'd never heard the side of the corrupt; she'd never sympathized with the offender until that moment, she'd never before realized that yes, punishments occurred, and the wicked suffered through the innocents.

She swallowed, feeling as though she were on the cusp of a discovery; Caleb's stories were causing her mind to tip the scales, to ruin the tortuous balance between good and evil. She blinked away tears, thinking of the children's faces as they burned for witchcraft they had never even committed.

"Why?" she asked, her voice hoarse and croaking with pain. "Why did you _really_ bring me here and tell me this, Caleb?"

Her question didn't seem to take him by surprise, as though he'd been expecting it. He rubbed his jaw thoughtfully for a moment, and met her eyes. "I'm not good, Melinda. I'm not good at all." She opened her mouth to challenge his statement, but he shook his head. "I heard you talking with your aunt and brothers when we were at your parents' house; your brothers were right. My brothers and I, our fathers before us—we're all condemned. Our magic is evil, and although it's not completely corrupt, it can easily corrupt the User. We aren't like your family at all; none of us are _blessed_ with our Power. We're cursed, destined for hell. I don't ... I don't want you to be destined, too."

Melinda's tears were flowing freely. She shook her head to deny his words, and stepped forward until she stood beside him. "You're wrong. You're not _evil_, Caleb."

"I am. All of us are—."

She slapped him across the cheek, glaring up at him angrily. "Don't you _dare_ say that. That's not true, and I'll never believe it. None of you are evil; your grandfather proved that when he healed people at his lake. The Founders proved that when they continuously punished Putnam for doing evil things. Don't you ever try to convince me you're evil when you're not, Caleb. Your Power may not be good, but that doesn't mean you aren't."

Caleb's jaw clenched. "We are our Power, Melinda! Why else would we die when we will it away? Our Power is who we are. We aren't the good guys. I'm not a good guy."

Melinda lifted her hand again, but it wasn't to slap him. She reached her hand around behind his neck and pulled him down, standing on her toes at the same time and meeting his lips with her own. She kissed him and felt her heart flutter when his hands wrapped around her waist and he deepened the kiss.

She was the first to pull away, but only far enough to whisper against his skin and connect their gazes. "You may not be good, but you're not bad, either. You're _safe_, and that's all that matters. You keep me safe, and I'll keep you good."

He smiled, and his melancholy eyes lit up like coals on fire. "Sounds like a plan to me."

**.**

Melinda leaned back in the grass, looking up at the clouds. Caleb sat next to her, appearing more interested in her than their surroundings. They lounged in the field behind the Colony House, which was actually more groomed than the front of the house. It seemed naturally done; the grass was too long and somewhat unruly being filled with weeds and bugs, but it was a bright shade of green that suggested care.

"Do you ever think that Charlotte Warren just planned this all out?" he asked suddenly.

She didn't open her eyes, but replied immediately. "I used to, I guess. But ... Well, I wanted to talk to her at the wedding, and never got a chance to. I saw her daughter Melinda there—."

"She has a daughter named Melinda?" Caleb interrupted, sounding curious.

Melinda sighed, opened her eyes, and rolled them. "Yes, she does; my mother named me after her. But anyways, I started talking with her and she told me ... A bunch of stuff. All about Charlotte, and how she burned, and how Melinda was actually set up to marry John Putnam's son, but he was killed." She paused and sat up, pushing her hair out of her face to better see him. "Caleb, the Putnam heir wasn't killed for his insolence; he was killed because the Powers That Be foresaw that if he entered Melinda Warren's life, her destiny would change, and she would never prophesy the Charmed Ones. She never even met his son, since he died on the day they were supposed to meet."

Caleb's brows unfurled, and his face became a mask of reflection. He seemed very deep in thought, just like Melinda herself had been when she first heard the story. "Melinda Warren told you that?" She nodded. "And she burned at the stake, too, didn't she?" She nodded again. "But only after she finished her destiny."

"No—burning at the stake was part of her destiny, just like prophesying and doing whatever else she did was," she corrected him kindly.

"Do you mean that everything was a part of her destiny, then? Like waking up at a certain time on a single day, seeing or doing something, or wearing her hair a certain way would all be a part of her destiny?"

Melinda rolled her eyes again, thinking that the last bit was slightly petty, but nodded. "Everything to anything someone does is their destiny."

Caleb looked over at her, and she was caught in the sudden intensity of his eyes. "So, being here right now—with me—is part of your destiny?"

She replied without hesitation. "Yes."

"And marrying me—that was part of your destiny?" he asked, growing ever closer to the whole point of their conversation.

"That's what Melinda Warren told me. She also said that if we weren't, um, _destined_, and you somehow impeded my destiny overall, you would have been killed."

"But I'm still alive."

"So you are," she said unsmiling.

He pursed his lips and focused his eyes clearly on her. "I'm part of your destiny, you're part of mine."

Melinda nodded silently, wondering if this was how Melinda Warren felt when they'd spoken—like all her heart's secrets had been released, the burden shared, and completely weightless. She supposed not, since Melinda Warren's destiny didn't really depend on her like her own did on Caleb.

"And Pogue and Pru—what about them?" he asked.

She sighed and picked at a loose string on her shirt's hem. She had hoped he wouldn't broach the topic, since it was so complex and confusing and Melinda Warren hadn't told her half of it, but it was Caleb; he could easily put two and two together to make five hundred. "Them too,"

His hands reached up to cup her cheek unexpectedly, forcing her attention back on to him. "Melinda, what else did she tell you about us?"

_Us_ meant more than just Caleb and herself, Melinda knew—he was talking about all of them; Pru, Pogue, Tyler, Reid, and anyone else somehow involved. She didn't want to answer, but did anyway. The words forced themselves off her tongue and out her mouth, quick like ripping off a band-aid; supposedly painless, but really just being more pain in a quick moment than prolonged lesser pain. "Four and four," she whispered. "She said, _Four and four_. You and me, Pru and Pogue, and the others.

"Four and four ... Melinda, who are the other two? For Reid and Tyler?"

She shook her head, although not hard enough to remove it from his hold. "I don't know. She didn't tell me everything, just that there's something that we all have to do, and our destinies and our children, and something else, but I can't remember."

He dropped his hands from her cheeks. "That doesn't make sense. Our destinies and our children? What about them?"

"I don't _know_," Melinda cried, her eyes filling up with tears. "I told you—I can't remember. It's like ... Like my memory's all foggy. Ever since those nightmares, everything has been foggy for me, Caleb. I don't understand."

"Hey," he said softly, pulling her close until her head rested against his chest. "It's okay, we'll figure this out. We'll be okay, I promise. We'll be fine—safe, remember?"

She smiled marginally and nodded against his shoulder, wiping her tears away. Caleb was right; she just needed to hold herself together. She was probably just tired and overreacting.

When she quieted down, he decided to change the subject to distract her. "What I don't get is Reid," he said, pausing momentarily.

Melinda laughed. "Neither do I."

He grinned. "What I meant was what you said about the four and four—Reid and Tyler are leftover, missing the other two, which I'm assuming are their magical counterparts, or something of the like, right?"

"I'd think so," she answered, trying not to think too hard about it.

"Well," Caleb started, "Who's Reid's counterpart? Who's Ty's? What about Christina, Reid's girlfriend?"

She shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. Unless Christina is magical, which she doesn't seem to be, as she would have recognized my family as the progeny of the Charmed Ones, then he must still have to find his ... Counterpart, like Tyler does. At least, that's what I'm guessing."

He nodded, and kissed the top of her head. "We need to get home before my mother ... Well, I don't know what she'd do, but I don't really want to, either."

The woman in his arms laughed pleasantly, but orbed them back to the house regardless. It was nearing late afternoon, and she didn't want to know what Evelyn would do if they were gone for a whole day, either. They orbed into the entrance hall, attracting Evelyn's attention.

"Oh," she said, holding a clipboard in her hand. Several people followed her into the room, carrying cloth pieces and dish ware. "I didn't expect you to be back so soon."

"Ms. Danvers? Which table did you say you wanted the cake to be on?" a woman hefting one side of a six-tier cake asked. The woman reached up to the top tier, carefully repositioning a cake-topper couple holding hands.

Caleb and Melinda looked between the cake and Evelyn as she directed the woman away. "I didn't. I clearly said to position the cake on the table that is entirely separate to the other two. I want _that_ beside the long table in the dining hall, but within viewing distance from the main parlors."

"Yes, ma'am." The cake-wielding women teetered away, holding the superfluous cake steady between them.

Caleb looked up at his mother somewhat exasperatedly. "Mother, what do you think you're doing?"

"I'm afraid I have no inclination as to what you're hinting at, dear. I'm simply putting the finishing touches on tonight's party." Evelyn said warmly, flourishing her hand around the hall to show them (as if they could miss them) all the decor—the stairwell's banisters, cloaked in cream-colored cloth; the carefully positioned champagne tower; the cream and black table cloths that decorated all the tables; the newly cleaned and organized rooms, all lit up and decorated in black and cream.

Melinda swallowed nervously. She knew what was going on—how could she not? It was Evelyn's party, the one she'd helped plan. She'd even picked the colors, going on and on about how they complemented each other with Caleb's mother. In truth, they had just reminded her of herself and Caleb, but she hadn't said that aloud. Unfortunately, though, Ms. Danvers got the drift anyway.

"Well then I guess we'll head over to Reid's to stay out of your hair," he commented smoothly, stepping back towards the door. His hand was still clasped around Melinda, so she went with him.

Evelyn hummed in agreement. "Yes, dear, that's fine." Caleb let out a breath, feeling as though he'd escaped unscathed, but his mother wasn't finished. "Just be sure to be back here in one hour; after all, the guests of honor must not be late to their own party."

"Wh—what?" Melinda asked, feeling clammy. "Guests of honor?"

"Mm, yes; hadn't I mentioned that? This is your wedding celebration. What did you think we were planning the other day, my dear?" Caleb's mother smiled coyly, reaching to pat Melinda's shoulder. The latter didn't reply. She froze against her husband, whom had also gone tense. "You don't need to be present until six, which is an hour before the toast. You have three hours to get ready, and I've already arranged a stylist for you in the guest room beside Caleb's." Evelyn gave her son a look that let on she clearly knew Melinda hadn't been in her bedroom since her first night.

Caleb looked ready to put up a fight against his mom. "Mother, this is outrageous. We've already had a reception in San Francisco. We don't need a second one."

"But I wasn't at that one. Don't you want to celebrate with me?" Caleb wavered at his mother's words, but wasn't quite ready to give in. "And besides, what will the town say when they hear about how you got married secretly in California? It would be a scandal! Melinda would never be able to function in society. People need to meet her in a good environment, so that they might accept her. It's the only option, Caleb."

"Mother—." he protested, but Melinda cut him off, squeezing his hand in her grip.

"We'd love to celebrate with you, Evelyn."

Evelyn's smile grew wide and her eyes sparkled in the way Caleb's did when he was unbelievably happy. She pulled Melinda into a spontaneous hug. "Thank you, dear. This really does mean the world to me." The elder woman backed off slowly, still smiling. "Now, why don't you escort your wife up the stairs, hmm? We've got a lot of work to do on you two."

Melinda's own smile wavered slightly at that, but Caleb just rolled his eyes at his mother, pecked her cheek, and led Melinda up the stairs. They paused between the two bedrooms and loosened hands. "You didn't have to do that, you know," he said mildly, leaning against the wall.

She shrugged. "She's right—she never did get to celebrate with us. I felt bad."

"It was just an excuse, and I apologize for her, and for tonight."

Melinda laughed. "I'm sure it won't be as bad as you say. It's just a few people I've never met; no harm, no foul."

**.**

At five after six, Melinda still wouldn't come out of her bathroom. Caleb had ridded them of the stylist quite a while ago and took his place to coerce her out, but she shot down his every request and would only let him in the bedroom, and not the bathroom where she was holed up.

He knocked on the door again, repeating the action he'd done numerous times to no avail. "It can't be that bad, Melinda. _No harm, no foul_, remember?"

Something rustled behind the door. "Lots of harm! Plenty of fouls! It's worse than bad, Caleb—it's simply terrible and I just won't come out. Tell her I'm suddenly ill with a fever and can't even leave my bathroom."

"Just let me see," he begged, stating the same comment he had so many times. "If it's really that bad, then you can stay in here, alright?"

She was quiet for a moment. "Promise not to laugh?" Melinda asked quietly.

"I promise."

The door creaked open slowly, and Melinda stepped out slowly, wearing a cream dress that looked vaguely familiar to Caleb. "I look like Audrey Hepburn," she said, fiddling with the thick black belt that wrapped around the dress's waist.

Caleb cracked a smile. "From _Charade_, right?" She nodded, and reached up to scratch the side of her head. Her hair had been intricately pinned up into a bun, but since it was still quite short, lots of pins had been used and they were already bothering her. Her fingers snagged one and a chunk of hair fell out, curly against her ear. He laughed and she shot him a dirty look.

"You promised!"

"I'm sorry, it's just ... You _do_ look like Audrey Hepburn. Did my mother leave you any other choices besides that one?"

She shuffled behind the door and changed into a lighter colored one that had a sleeveless lace bodice and a flaring skirt. She popped back out, smoothing down the skirt delicately. "I like this one better, but that woman said no; apparently my hairstyle didn't fit the dress."

"Well then change your hair," Caleb suggested as he carefully tugged out the remainder of the pins, causing her shorn hair to come tumbling down from the bun, stopping in loose curls just above her shoulders. He fingered one of the waves, and it was just as soft as it looked. "Now you look like Melinda Halliwell," he said.

Melinda shook her head. "We're married now, remember? I'm Melinda _Danvers_."

"I thought all the women in your family kept their names?"

"I'm not a feminist like they are. I don't really care. No one really calls me by my last name, anyway, and I'm a bit done with the whole _Halliwell_ thing. Maybe I can be Melinda instead of Melinda, daughter of the Charmed Ones and sister of the Twice-Blessed." Her nose curled, and he guessed she'd been called that plenty of times before.

She sighed softly and glanced at her reflection in the mirror again, fluffing up her hair. "Are you sure I look alright for your mother's party? I mean, you're wearing a tuxedo, Caleb."

"That's just my mother," he shrugged. "She's a bit of a control-freak about her parties; everything must turn out perfectly." Melinda arched an eyebrow, silently questioning his choice of words. "Okay, she's _a lot _of a control freak."

Melinda laughed. "Well, if she wants everything perfect, you better fix your tie."

Caleb checked out his own reflection and noticed for the first time that his tie was crooked. He quickly unknotted it, and paused in his movements of retying it, as though he'd just thought of something. "Do you know how to tie a tie?"

She shook her head, looking at the tie loosely hanging around his neck with an enigmatic expression.

"Here," Caleb took her hands in his and went through the motions. "Take this end under this one, and then loop the top one back over. Pull the loop down to tighten it—not that tight!" He choked, and pulled the tie apart. She backed up.

"I'm sorry, but I don't think I'm the tie kinda girl—."

He tugged her back towards himself until her hands were inside his again, and they picked up where they'd left off. "Okay, now take this side to the right and then behind the loop. Bring it through, making a knot; tighten gently."

Melinda carefully pushed the knot upwards when Caleb's hands fell to her hips. She had to stand on her toes to really reach it, and his grip helped steady her. "All done," she murmured, brushing nonexistent lint from his shoulders. The brunette glanced up at his face, and found that he was already staring back at her. She flushed, embarrassed, and tried to pull away, but he held her still and bent his head to steal a kiss.

"Knock, knock!" Evelyn called from outside the door. Caleb's head froze in its movement of nearing her own; he clenched his jaw and rested his forehead against hers. "Now, Casey told me that you are both in there, so don't pretend you aren't, or that you cannot hear me, because I know you most definitely can. I expect you both to be out here in thirty seconds—fully clothed, if you please."

Melinda ducked her head to hide her embarrassment; her cheeks were a deep shade of pink from his mother's insinuations.

"I'm counting," she warned. "Twenty-nine, twenty-eight, twenty-seven—"

Caleb sighed and released her with a forced smile. "Get your shoes," he murmured, eyeing her bare toes.

"Oh!" Melinda stepped away from him and slipped on the singular pair of creamy white flats out of the shoe selection Evelyn had provided, leaving twenty-two cream-colored strapped heels to sit lonesome. She eyed them distrustfully, and linked her hand with his. "Ready."

"Twelve, eleven, ten—"

Caleb swung the door open, looking at his mother with a crooked brow. "Was that absolutely necessary, Mother?"

Evelyn smiled and gave them both once-overs. She frowned at Melinda's choice of shoes, and her hair, but didn't say anything. "It's fifteen past six o'clock, and your guests are waiting for you." The elder woman spun on her black heels and stalked down the hall. "Don't wait too long—you simply cannot seem _that_ pretentious with that hair."

Caleb squeezed his wife's clammy hand. "Don't listen to her, alright? You look beautiful."

She nodded warily and gripped his hand tight for support. "Let's just get this over with."

**.**

"Your dress is just lovely m'dear, you look absolutely beautiful in it," commented the short, pudgy honey-haired woman with the name Melinda just couldn't seem to remember.

She'd been introduced to so many people, it was no wonder she couldn't remember all their names correctly. After a few awkward moments in which she'd called Mrs. G-something, Ms. P-something, and Mr. Roberts, Mr. Jones, Melinda had taken to calling no one anything. She simply just went without addressing anyone, and it was working fine so far.

"Doesn't she?" her much taller, lanky companion asked. The woman was absolutely wrapped with furs, and reeked of expensive old-lady perfume. "And Caleb, oh; he just looks dashing!"

"Yes, but that Garwin boy ... Well, he could use some of his friends' influence," another woman piped up, eyeing Reid—whom had come in sneakers, jeans, and a t-shirt to Mrs. Danvers' dismay—and the very much t-shirt clad Christina, who was leaning against his side as they chatted with Tyler in a corner.

How the trio had gotten out of the intense mingling, Melinda had no idea. She was jealous of them, nonetheless. At first, the party had seemed nerve-wracking, but tolerable with Caleb at her side. They plastered fake smiled on together, and he reminded her of everyone's names. However, Caleb was tugged away by someone or other, and Melinda hadn't seem him since dinner, where they were seated together. Despite being side by side, they'd barely spoken two words during the whole affair of eating because of the constant need for Caleb's attention by nearly every guest. Melinda eventually gave up trying to seek him out and talk to him, and allowed herself to be dragged off by the rude, gossiping old women.

"So, dear, how old are you?"

Ah, yes—this was surely Melinda's favorite question of the night. She'd already received it many times, whether veiled by nosy college questions or blunt like the pudgy woman's. Everyone's reactions to their ten-year deficit in age was most enjoyable to her; most were driven to speechlessness, and she was allowed to walk away feeling like a gold-digger, despite not being one. No matter what she was, people would draw their own conclusions of her from their own thoughts. It simply couldn't be helped.

"I'm eighteen," she said clearly, attracting jaw-drops and glazed stares from the three surrounding women and more. As expected, Evelyn swooped in to smooth things over, and the trio hurriedly spoke to her in rushed apologies and excuses, and she was allowed to walk away.

"That was real suave," Reid commented, materializing at her side. He nabbed her elbow and pulled her over to his previous corner. Christina hugged her.

"You really do look gorgeous, babe. Don't listen to those bitties—they're simply envious of how your hair is naturally wavy." the blonde said, by way of greeting.

Melinda put a hand to her hair self-consciously, but dropped it. She'd heard all the possible snide comments that she could possibly ever receive about how she currently looked in the last four hours, whether by accident or on purpose. It was enough to make someone lose so much confidence, that they got to the point of not even caring anymore.

"Uh-oh," Ty said, looking over her head to something behind her. "Queen E. is headed this way."

She took that as code for Evelyn when Reid and Christina split off together, with Ty following with an apologetic glance.

"Melinda, dear, why don't you come meet—." Evelyn began hastily, taking her wrist.

A rough, warm hand took hold of her other wrist. "Actually, Mother, why don't I just grab Melinda?" Caleb tugged on her, and Evelyn let go with a slight grimace.

Melinda mouthed _thank you_ to him, and he smiled before pressing a kiss to her forehead. There was a camera flash in front of them as a photographer spotted them, but he ran off when Caleb gave him a glare.

"Honestly, Mother—I don't see why you hire those people to come here. The town doesn't need more gossip on us."

"This isn't gossip," Evelyn protested as she walked away, sights set on some other group. "It's the event of the season!"

Melinda sighed and leaned against Caleb, allowing her eyes to close slightly in relaxation. She hadn't sat still for more than a few minutes all night, and she hadn't been silent for more than one—her voice was already going hoarse with overuse.

His arms wound around her waist, hands resting on her lower back leisurely. "I'm sorry," Caleb said suddenly, quite stiffly.

She turned her head to the side so her words wouldn't be muffled, and people-watched the remaining guests that people-watched the pair. "Whatever for?"

Caleb took a moment to answer. Melinda observed the few people left in the entrance hall; Pru and Christina were talking animatedly beside Pogue and Reid, whom both appeared pleased that their girlfriends seemed fond of each other; a beautiful couple helped a little boy and girl into their jackets; a man drifting on the edge of room. As her eyes lit upon him, she shivered. The man leaned against one of the walls with his arms crossed over his chest, looking completely at ease. The only disturbing thing about him was his smug smile and beady eyes—both completely focused on her.

"The party. My mother," Caleb began, sounding weary and desperate and exhausted. "Marrying me. Leaving your home. The curse on both our families. All of it—everything. I'm sorry for the whole lot."

She looked up at him, surprised, then quickly glanced back to see if the man was still there, but he had disappeared. When Melinda looked back to Caleb, he was gazing at her with a patient, somber expression that might've been apologetic. She vaguely felt like slapping him again, but withheld under the impression that Evelyn would say that wasn't appropriate party behavior. "Caleb, that's utterly ridiculous." When he didn't immediately reply, instead looking off tot he side to watch his mother, she spoke again. "You're attempting to apologize for our destiny, like you could change it; that's impossible."

"But if I hadn't—."

Melinda shook her head and reached behind her to grab his hand, detaching herself from his comfortable hold. "You can't change what's done. Time only happens once, and no one went back to change anything for us, so obviously we're content where we are." Caleb nodded minimally, and looked down at Melinda. She smiled at him. "Let's just go to bed, alright? We're both tired, and it's been a long day."

**.**

The body in Melinda's arms felt heavy and cold, but she didn't want to leave him just yet. She stroked his damaged face, clearing the skin of dirt and blood with her consistent touch. His beauty still marveled her—even in death. His cheekbones were high, his jaw was strong, and his lips—oh _god_, his lips—were chapped and rough on the surface, but Melinda knew they had once been warm and loving, similar to how now his normally beautiful gold skin had turned a sickly pale yellow.

Caleb was the most gorgeous man alive, in Melinda's opinion. He was too beautiful to die, she realized; too smart, too young, too _good_. Caleb should have lived a long life with a pretty wife and a handsome son and a great job with lots of people and love and respect. But she entered his life, and now ... Now Caleb was dead.

She wiped the last of her tears away, pecked his damaged face with a few more kisses, and stood. She looked down at him forlornly; there was no way she could bring him with her, but Melinda couldn't bear to leave him behind. She would have to come back for him, and then she would take care of him.

"I won't leave you here," she promised.

Melinda turned her back on him and glanced around the dark enclosure they were in, and noticed for the first time that it wasn't really a room at all. It was more like the remains of a room, as though it had once been standing erect but had since fallen. There was no roof, and the walls surrounding them were falling apart and broken oddly. There wasn't really an entrance or an exit, so she carefully pushed through the debris until a path was cleared and the outside wind brushed her face fully.

There was only more wooden rubble and wreckage surrounding Caleb's stockade, she realized. There weren't any roads, nor was there any sign of civilization—not that Melinda would have been able to see it, anyway, it was too dark—but she called out hopefully regardless.

"Hello? Anyone there?" Melinda cried out. She spun in a circle, surveying the little area within her viewing distance around her as much as she could. "Hello? We need some help! Can anybody help us? _Help!_"

She stumbled forward through the mess and tripped frequently. It took another five minutes, but when Melinda was finally out of the ruins, she turned back and looked at them. They looked like they'd been sitting there and falling down for some time, but then had been recently torn up even more again. Whatever the turn of events was, its after-effects were horrible.

What could have happened there, to leave the ruins even more wrecked and Caleb dead? Melinda wasn't sure she wanted to know.

"_Help!_" she hollered again, but it was to no avail. No one was coming. "Can anybody even hear me?" she whimpered pathetically, looking more disheartened than before. She wouldn't be able to take care of Caleb if she couldn't get him out of there.

"I can hear you."

Melinda spun wildly, and her eyes landed upon a man standing apart from the wreckage. He was handsome, with dark hair and dark skin, and stood with the aristocratic sort of posture she'd seen on Caleb, but the very sight of him made her heart feel cold. His eyes were hard and sinister in their observing, making her feel uncomfortable. His smile was superior, and appeared self-congratulatory. She shivered.

She felt compelled to back away, but stood her ground. "My—my husband—he needs help," Melinda began.

The man cut her off coldly. "Yes, he does, and so do you; but there's no help for people like you two."

"Wh—what?"

"You're like bad seeds ... You need to be weeded out of the bunch, or else you'll ruin the whole batch." His faced turned almost apologetic at his next words. "I'm sorry to have to do this, Melinda—but just like that husband of yours, you need to go."

"Goodbye, Melinda."

**.**

Melinda's eyes opened with a start, and as was her habit, she glanced beside her without moving. Caleb was lying on his back, snoring softly. He was still there, beside her, still living and breathing, still warm. Her fingers brushed his chest to be sure, and once she found his heartbeat she sighed.

First she was having dreams of Caleb's death, then she couldn't remember things, and now she was having dreams of her own demise. She was starting to think something was seriously wrong with herself.

She fidgeted slightly, growing restless, but stilled and pretended to be asleep when Caleb shifted and his snores cut off.

Her dreams were troubling, but she didn't want to bug Caleb about them any longer. They were her own problem, and she'd take care of them herself.

**

* * *

AN: **Yellow, all! I'm so pleased! This chapter was actually focused towards a goal, and it's really helping push forward on my plot :] Oh, btw—the scene with Caleb's deadness was again one of her 'dreams', just in case you didn't recognize it as such.

And ... Shout-out to Dark-Supernatural-Angel, whom basically inspired the foremost idea of visiting the basement of the Colony House with her review from Chapter Fourteen 'Trust'.

Review and tell me what you thinks coming! I'm really curious as to your theories, lol.


	18. Set in Stone

Set in Stone

**

* * *

**

_Experience is the name everyone gives to their mistakes_.

Melinda hated that quote. She loved Oscar Wilde's works in their entirety, but that single line simply killed her. She couldn't be positive of why, but was fairly sure it was because whenever she looked back on life, she noted everything she'd ever done and all the experiences she'd had and all the situations she'd been placed in and couldn't help but wonder—was it all just a huge mistake? Or, even worse, looking back on it all and pinpointing certain events and wondering if one of them was the mistake that set off a long line of events.

The passage forced her into doubt and confusion, and if there were any two things that Melinda had enough of until the day she died and maybe even longer, they would be doubt and confusion. She'd doubted herself enough times, been confused about what to do, and then doubted what she'd already done aplenty. She often felt like her life had been full of mistakes, and she was only eighteen!

Destiny or no, Melinda couldn't help but feel dubious and unsure about everything in her life—past, present, and future withstanding.

She beat the spoon into the bowl a little harder on that note, causing some of the flour to flick over the sides and dust any nearby surfaces, including her front. She swiped at her shirt, attempting to clean the fabric but only leaving more traces of sticky batter behind. In her frustration, Melinda growled and threw the long metal spoon onto the counter top, creating a loud clang.

"Whoa! What's goin' on in here, Mel's Bells?"

Melinda didn't answer Reid, instead hurrying to the beeping oven to take out two trays of cookies and shove a brownie and blondie dish in. On the counter beside the oven, three bread pans, four more cookie trays, and two cake rounds sat waiting to be baked.

Reid spun around in the kitchen as he entered it, absorbing the insane amount of baked goods that covered every stable surface of the kitchen, already cooked or no. Confections of each and every kind appeared to be swallowing up the kitchen itself, and the usual chefs were nowhere to be seen. Only Melinda was in sight, and she was looking slightly frazzled.

He stole a cookie off the counter and shoved it in his mouth, moaning at its delicious taste—she definitely got her mother's cooking skills. Christina stood beside him, watching Melinda in awe. "You sure ... Uh, made a whole lot of, um, food."

Melinda hummed in response, still extremely focused on her baking.

"So, uh, where's Caleb?" Reid asked as he swallowed his first cookie and shoved the second and third into his mouth. Crumbs spilled over from his mouth onto his shirt, but he didn't seem to care.

She shrugged and he looked at her oddly, but she didn't catch it, being too centered on how her latest masterpiece—a cake with three tiers, all frosted with different flavors—was turning out. "Alright, well, I'm gonna go find him and tell him that you've finally gone off the deep end, sound good?" Again, Melinda didn't reply. She didn't even seem to realize he'd spoken at all. The blond male turned to Christina. "I'll be right back. Make sure she doesn't try to drown herself in cake batter or throw herself in the oven, 'kay? I'm sure Caleb would like his batty wife in one piece, rare, and un-charred." He pecked her cheek and left the room with his casual, cat-like grace.

Christina leaned against the counter opposite where Melinda was standing, watching her with worried eyes. "Y'know, I had this cousin—she was a completely shitty cook under normal circumstances, but she could fill at least three houses with baked goods. When she got stressed out about things, she'd bake, and bake, and bake, and become so completely absorbed in all her baking that she'd be pretty much lost to the world. By my guess, I'd say it was her way of coping—maybe it was how she took control back of her wacky life." The blonde woman shrugged, still watching Melinda intently. The shorter of the pair had yet to stop her constant cycle of stirring, mixing, beating, whipping, pouring, and cutting. "All I know is that it never helped her gather her thoughts. She'd just get more and more kooky until she broke down in a huge mess, leaving half-baked things lying around."

Melinda's spoon arm faltered slightly. She seemed about to stop, but instead began stirring faster than before, spilling more batter out of the bowl.

The elder blonde looked on, getting continuously more distressed as she watched the brunette's frantic movements.

**.**

"Hey, Caleb," Reid greeted his brother calmly, sliding into the chair across the table from him.

The blond had found his friend in the smaller dining hall that was more commonly used as Caleb's work space, situated just a short ways from the kitchen. Books surrounded him, covering every inch of the corner of the table he was using and the few seats beside him. He wrote furiously down on a pad, obviously working on something—a case for the firm, maybe? Reid couldn't be sure. Maybe Caleb just researched random things in his free time. He was a pretty big nerd, even now.

Caleb nodded to him, glancing up from his paperwork. "Hey, man. What's up?"

Reid shrugged. "Not much. Just got back from breakfast a the diner with 'Stina. Figured we'd stop by."

"Oh?" The eldest Son didn't sound surprised. Christina seemed to really like Melinda, and vice versa—the pair had seen each other more often that he and Melinda had seen each other recently. He was finally starting to take over his father's old position at the firm and gain respect from the employees, so work had been really busy. He'd been swamped with paperwork for the last two days, and had only seen Melinda when they went to bed at night, leaving them little chance to talk. "Where are they?"

"Kitchen."

Caleb quirked his brow. "Is the chef making something?"

Reid shook his head. "Nah, all the cooking staff's gone. Melinda sent them home, I think. She's been baking."

"I didn't know she baked. What'd she make?" the elder of the pair asked, sounding fairly shocked.

The blond shrugged noncommittally and stood. Caleb followed him out of the room and into the kitchen, where Melinda was still hastily working some new dough. As soon as they entered the kitchen, Christina slipped into Reid's embrace, and Caleb's jaw dropped.

His dark eyes swept over the kitchen with astonishment. Baked goods were _everywhere_, and Melinda had sent the staff home! She'd probably done it all by herself. He watched her for a moment, and felt his heart fall a bit. She looked stressed, anxious, nervous, scared ... Broken. Her hands shook and her eyes were wide, but dark bags were beneath them like bruises marked by exhaustion.

How had he not noticed this change in her? How long had she been building up to this neurotic state? Caleb had no answers to his questions, and no one to give them to him. It was his own fault, though. He watched her for a moment more until his guilt pushed him into action. He stepped forward through the baked good battlefield and paused behind Melinda, wrapping a hand around her wrist.

"Melinda, I think that's enough for today," he said softly. "Why don't you call it quits, and let somebody else clean this up?"

She looked up at him worriedly, and shook her head no. "I can't. It's not finished. I can't."

"Yes, you can," he insisted, using his other hand to take the spoon out of her hand. It fell onto the counter with a clatter, but she didn't look away from his eyes. "Let's just go upstairs for a bit," he suggested carefully.

When Melinda didn't answer him right away, he thought for sure that she'd given in. However, she shook her head obstinately and tugged on the wrist that was still within his hold. "No, I'm not done. I need to—I need to finish. It's not ready."

He took her other wrist in his hands and guided her away from the counter, towards the kitchen door. She allowed herself to be led until they were out in the privacy of the dining hall. "_I'm _not ready," she whispered, her eyes tearing up.

A tear slid down her cheek and he quickly swept it away with his thumb, having dropped her wrists. Many more tears were let loose, and his thumb couldn't catch them all. She sniffled, trying to hold back—something, anything, but sobs broke loose, coming from deep within her chest. "Caleb," she whimpered. "I can't take it, I can't hold myself together anymore."

"Hey," he soothed, "Shh, it's okay. It'll all be okay." He stroked her hair softly with one hand and cupped her cheek with the other.

She caught his hand and held it away from her face, looking up at him with a broken yet fiercely determined set to her eyes. "Everything's falling apart, Caleb."

"What? No, we're all fine, babe. All of us are okay," he maintained, sounding somewhat confused at to what she was trying to impart.

Melinda shook her head. "You don't understand—it's coming together, Caleb. I get it now. It's coming together and I'm falling apart."

His eyebrows knitted together. Melinda was definitely right; he did not understand at all. "It'll be alright," he tried to comfort her, hoping that it would help even if he couldn't grasp what she was saying. "I'm here for you, I can help you ... You'll be okay."

She kept shaking her head in protest to his words, but the sobs and tears took over until her mouth didn't work anymore. The only sounds that came out were indistinct blubbers, so she gave up trying to make him understand and allowed her self to be held against him. Caleb wrapped his arms around her tightly, and she buried her head into his chest, relishing his warmth and kindness. Even though it wasn't really what she needed, the superficial, physical comfort silenced her for long enough. Her eyes drifted to a close, and the only thing she could recognize through a veil of sadness was the never-ending circular motion of Caleb's warm hand against her back.

**.**

Caleb wasn't beside her when she woke up. She knew he'd brought her up to their bed, and tucked her in, and that he'd sat with her for quite some time, but now he was gone. Pru sat in a chair beside the bed, though, with her chin held up in her hand. Her eyes were directed towards the view out the window, but were unfocused—like she wasn't really seeing it at all. A tear slipped from her eyes and down her cheek, leaving a wet track behind it on her skin.

"Pru?" Melinda asked, sitting up in bed and leaning back against the headboard.

The blonde's head snapped to face her. She quickly wiped the tear away, like she was ashamed of it, and scooted forward on her seat. "Min-Min? Are you alright? How are you feeling?" A soft, cold hand reached up to brush her forehead.

"I'm fine," she insisted, swatting Pru's searching hands away from her vicinity. "What's wrong?"

Pru shook her head and quickly changed the subject. "Caleb told me you went baking-crazy." The blonde raised an eyebrow at her cousin when the brunette broke their gaze and looked away. "What's going on with you? You only do that when things aren't going well." She asked her next question in a much softer, quieter tone, "Aren't you happy here, Melinda?"

Melinda hurried to correct her cousin. "I _am _happy here. I really am," Pru looked at her doubtfully. "Seriously. It's just," Melinda contemplated telling her best friend all about the nightmares she'd been having, but decided to hold the information back. "Well, I feel like I don't belong here." And she really did feel like she didn't belong there; she wasn't lying about that, it just wasn't what she'd wanted to say or the most pressing matter on her mind. However, that didn't stop her feelings from pouring out into her words, revealing things she hadn't even known about herself. "I feel useless. No demons to kill, no potions to make, no magic to practice, nothing to learn. And it's not just that, either—I can't _do_ anything here. I don't have a job, I don't go to school, and I certainly can't get into Harvard like Caleb. I can't even plan parties, like Evelyn, or look right for them, either." She paused, took in a gasping breath, and said, "I'm just a _useless _nobody."

The blonde's eyes softened. "Have you told Caleb any of this?"

"He wouldn't understand. He's practically perfect, Pru; Caleb's got everything in the world going for him, and he's also one of the greatest guys ever, all the while being completely humble." Pru looked at her disbelievingly, but Melinda continued. "I'm not kidding—I wish I was, though. And ... And to top it all off, I think I'm—I think I'm in love with him, Pru."

Pru smiled almost sadly, but rolled her eyes. "Of course you are, Melinda. If he's as amazing as you say he is, it doesn't sound like loving him would be all that difficult."

_But it is,_ Melinda wanted to say, but stopped herself. She couldn't tell Pru that. If she told Pru that, other things might come out—like things about her nightmares/dreams, and how they had gotten so much worse now—and no matter how much she loved the girl, she knew Pru wouldn't be able keep those things to herself. She'd tell Pogue, and Pogue would tell one of the guys, or Caleb, or even worse, one of her brothers or cousins, whom would proceed to either confront her about it or get the Aunts involved. And Melinda couldn't let those things happen. Whatever took place, her parents couldn't know. They were where she drew the line.

Her cousin began to look at her suspiciously, as though she realized the brunette was keeping something to herself. Melinda quickly changed the subject, using Pru's tactic back on herself so as to catch her in it. "What about you, Pru? Why were you crying?"

Pru looked down at her hands, then back out the window again. A few moments passed, and when Pru's eyes finally reached her cousin's again, they were filled with tears. "I think Penny's missing."

"What?" Melinda gasped.

"Remember how I said we couldn't get ahold of her at her friend's place? She was supposed to be back yesterday, from that friend's house. When she didn't show up, my mom went over there, thinking that maybe she wanted a ride home or something, like she had too many bags to carry and couldn't Fade home." Pru swallowed, choking on her words. "But—but Penny wasn't there. Her friend said that she went home a week ago, and that Penny told her she was going on a hunt with Billie, or something."

"Billie would never take Penny on her hunts," Melinda stated vehemently. "Her hunts are way too dangerous for a fifteen-year-old!"

"I know! When Mom got ahold of Billie, Billie had no idea what she was talking about. She wasn't even on a hunt; she was at Magic School, helping Aunt Paige with something." She paused, looking at her hands again, as if she were searching them for answers. "No one has a clue of where Penny might be. They couldn't even trace her, since she hasn't used her Cupid powers at all since she left. The Elders aren't saying anything if they know where she is."

Melinda gulped, wishing that her next question had not popped into her head at all. "Do they—do they think she's dead?"

Pru didn't react to the question; she must've been thinking something similar. "I don't know," she replied quietly. "I think that's the popular opinion. But ... It just doesn't make sense. She lied to her friend, and then lied to all of us by saying she wouldn't be be back until now. It's like—."

"Like she planned it," Melinda finished.

The blonde nodded. "But she didn't pack any of her stuff. The bag she took to her friend's is probably with her, but none of her other stuff is missing and she didn't even take that much. Mom said some cash from the family jar is missing, and that some of my clothes are missing, too. Why would she take my stuff, Melinda? I'm way taller than her, she wouldn't have been able to fit into it for years—or at least, until she filled out some."

"I don't know," she answered warily, trying to think of all the possibilities. Why would Penny take all that—to run away, obviously, but why? Penny loved her life; she'd never expressed displeasure about being the child of a Charmed One and a Cupid. She had no reason to run away. It had to mean that something else was going on. She needed to talk to Aunt Phoebe, and not just about Penny.

"Um, I'll be right back, okay?"

**.**

"Aunt Pheebs?" Melinda called. "Aunt Pheebs? You home?"

After excusing herself to the bathroom, Melinda had ditched Pru and immediately orbed out and to her Aunt Phoebe and Uncle Coop's place. No one seemed to be home, but Melinda had a feeling if she looked hard enough ...

She pushed open the door to the master bedroom, but no one was inside. It was just as empty as all the other rooms she'd searched so far. She closed it and moved on, pausing in front of Penny's bedroom door. She hadn't checked inside it yet, and Melinda's weird feeling was telling her to go inside. Against her better judgement, she opened the door.

"Little Bit?" Aunt Phoebe sat on Penny's bed, holding a framed photograph of her children, Coop, and herself. She glanced over at her niece, then patted the bed beside her.

Melinda did as her aunt directed her to and sat down. "Were you expecting me?"

Phoebe nodded. "For a while, now. I've been wondering when you'd figure it all out, though."

Melinda closed her eyes as a tear slipped down her cheek. "I guess that means I was right, then."

Her aunt nodded and slipped an arm around her, squeezing comfortingly. "I'm so sorry you had to find out this way," she apologized softly.

The shorter brunette just shrugged it off, before looking at her aunt speculatively. "You know where Penny is, don't you?" Phoebe didn't answer. "Is she at least safe?"

"Yes, she's in good hands." The Seer/Empath smiled. "She's old enough, now, to be on her own, anyways."

"She's fifteen!" Melinda exclaimed, her anger getting the best of her. She quickly retracted her comment and apologized, but it didn't seem to bother her aunt. Phoebe just smiled secretly, like she knew something her niece didn't, which was very likely. "Will I ever see her again?"

The elder married woman looked ready to roll her eyes, but answered with a smile nonetheless. "I promise you'll see her very soon. Don't worry about Penny, okay? Worry about yourself."

"Is that all I can do?" she asked, sounding desperate and disparaging again.

Phoebe shook her head. "You know you can do much more than that. This is only the beginning, Melinda. Nothing is set in stone—we're all proof of that, especially you."

"Not even the future?"

"Definitely not the future. It is the least trustworthy of all the things we know of in the present." She took her niece's hands in her own. "Go back to your husband, sweetie. Talk to him; he'll listen to you and understand."

Melinda nodded and stepped back, orbing back to Ipswich.

**.**

When she reappeared in the bathroom that was attached to Caleb's bedroom in one piece, Melinda had to stop herself from doing a happy dance, or loudly rejoicing. She'd just successfully orbed across the country—twice—and her body had not been damaged at all in the process! Maybe some things were looking up after all. She took it as a good sign and exited the bathroom.

Pru sat on the chair still, staring out the window. Pogue had come into the room while she was away, and was attempting to soothe her. She sidestepped the pair and quickly vacated the room, hurriedly racing down the hall and stairs. It would've been faster to orb, but with all the foot-traffic through the Danvers estate, there were often humans that didn't know of magic, and she didn't want to disrupt the balance of knowledge in the home. Besides, after that first incident, she tried to orb as least often as possible. Landing on Evelyn wouldn't be as funny the second time around.

She found Caleb in his father's study, which wasn't all that surprising to her. After he had brought her to the room in the first place, she suspected he spent much of his free time in it, thinking.

He didn't seem to notice her entrance into the room, his back being turned towards her as he looked out the window onto the sprawling backyard of the house. She took a moment to collect herself, thinking of what she might say.

Phoebe told her to talk to him, that he would understand—but what was she supposed to tell him? That Ipswich made her feel out of place? That she thought she was losing her mind? There were so many other things she could tell him, too, but none that she really _wanted_ to. They were all pretty painful to think about, let alone talk about out loud.

"Caleb, I—."

Caleb turned around before she could get the words out of her mouth, and she had to hold back a startled cry. His eyes were pitch black and his features were all wrong. He almost looked like Caleb, but he wasn't—not at all. He seemed familiar to her, but she just couldn't place him. He smirked at her and stepped forward once, only to suddenly appear before her. She flinched back in fright, and he shook his head, tsking.

"Don't be afraid, Melinda," the man seemed like he was trying to soothe her, but his voice was distorted and broken. He raised a hand and stroked her cheek; she grimaced in disgust at his touch—his hand was cold and hard, his skin dry and rough, like a dead person's.

He leaned in, as if to press a kiss against her lips, and she whimpered. However, he turned his head at the last moment, smirking salaciously, and whispered into her ear. She clenched her eyes shut at his proximity and shivered. "You're running out of time."

When she opened her eyes, he had moved back to the window, in the same position as before. She felt herself shaking in fear. But this time, when he turned around, his eyes were fine and he was Caleb again. He looked at her with a furrowed brow.

"Melinda, are you alright?"

She swallowed and breathed in and out deeply, relaxing herself. "Yes, I'm fine," she paused, and he looked at her with doubt in his eyes. "Really, Caleb, I'm alright. I just ... I came to see if you were hungry. I was thinking you could show me around Ipswich, and we could stop for lunch—or dinner, since it's getting kind of late now, I guess."

He didn't respond, still looking at her with his dark brown eyes—like he knew she was keeping something from him, or wasn't telling him the whole truth. Like she wasn't okay at all. Like she was broken. Melinda had been looked at like that her entire life, and she still hated it.

"If you don't want to, we don't have to ... " she trailed off uncertainly, looking at the floor.

Caleb shook his head, as though he were coming out of stupor. "Of course not. Let's go; I've been meaning to show you around since you got here."

She smiled up at him, and he smiled back, all traces off suspicion gone from his face. He knew there was something she wasn't saying, but he would just have to wait. Melinda wasn't ready to tell him all of those things—not just yet, anyway. Caleb probably already thought she was crazy enough; she didn't want to prove him right by telling him she was seeing things.

He took her hand in his own and led her out of the home, and into his car. He smiled at her and she laughed when he said something funny, and then his eyes crinkled and lit up in that way they did and then she just knew—everything would be alright in the end, someway, somehow. She would figure it out, and they would all be fine.

After all, the future wasn't set in stone; nothing was.

**.**

"—And that's where Pogue beat up Reid's first bully, and then that's the jail I bailed him out of, pretending to be his dad," Caleb remarked, gesturing to the park and the tiny police station right across from it.

Melinda laughed. "You can't be serious!" And yet the set to his jaw, and the happy glint to his eyes told her he was. "How did that work out?"

"Well, as we were all seven at the time, not so well." He grinned at the memory.

"You had to bail him out when he was _seven_?" she questioned disbelievingly.

Caleb shook his head. "I told you it didn't work out so well—Pogue was never arrested at all, or anything; they actually had him chained to a desk though." Her jaw dropped, and he hurried to give her an explanation. "Pogue was always getting into fights, especially with Reid. Very little damage occurred, with the occasional black eye, but they had to be separated plenty of times. When some officer had to pull Pogue off the bully several times, he ended up getting brought in 'cause the kid was crying so hard. They were both brought in so that they could call the parents, but Pogue kept going after the kid, so he ended up wearing a cuff on one wrist, and having the other half attached to the leg of a desk."

"Jeez, what did the kid do to Reid to make Pogue so mad?"

Caleb smiled wryly, but it wasn't a fond smile any longer. It was kind of dark, and angry, like it was something that he really hated having to remember. "The kid picked on Reid because he was the smallest. Usually one of the three of us was with him, though, so it didn't matter much, until one day we weren't. I don't remember why, but one of us were with him, and the bully picked up on his weakness. He ended up taunting him for always needing us to save him, and Reid just went off and slugged him. The kid got him back though, and Reid was knocked unconscious. We all saw it happen, but Pogue was the one to get there first."

Melinda swallowed. Reid didn't seem like the type to get picked on—not at all; on the contrary, he was the perfect fit for a bully. From the sounds of it, that kid made him into the jerk he could sometimes be today. She clenched her fists angrily. "That's horrible. I'm glad the dumb kid got what he deserved, though."

"Me, too," Caleb paused to yawn, which caused Melinda to yawn in turn. They both laughed, and he glanced at the clock, surprised. "Wow, we've been out for a while—it's almost nine-thirty. We should probably head home."

She nodded along, thinking about all the things around town he'd showed her, and the cute Italian restaurant they'd had dinner at, but glanced out the window and smiled. "I'll be right back."

Melinda hopped out of the car before he could say a word of protest and raced across the street, entering the coffee shop she'd spotted from within Caleb's Mustang. She ordered two coffees with a smile, and stood waiting for them. A man stood beside her, presumably also waiting for his coffee. He had curly long hair that was almost too pretty to be masculine, and looked older than her by a few years; maybe around Caleb's age. He caught her glancing at him, and flashed her a cheeky grin full of sparkling white teeth.

"Hey," he said, after looking her up and down with bright blue eyes. She fidgeted under his gaze, feeling self-conscious and awkward—she was _married _and he was checking her out. He offered her his hand by way of greeting. "I'm Aaron Abbott. Are you new here? I've never seen you around before."

She took his hand, and nodded, shaking it gently. "Um, yeah—I'm new. I'm Melinda Hal—I mean Danvers," she corrected herself, flushing lightly in embarrassment, "Melinda _Danvers_."

His eyes flashed with recognition and widened as they spotted the ring on her left hand. He immediately dropped her hand and picked up his coffee, seeming no longer interested in bothering her, for which she was thankful. "Tell Caleb hi for me, then."

Melinda looked at him, somewhat confused. "You know Caleb?" She recalled Caleb mentioning that his and the other Sons' families were somewhat prominent around here, but hadn't quite realized he meant that random strangers off the street would know him.

"Yeah; we went to school together. We were pretty close." He grinned again, like he was telling some joke she couldn't get, and he left.

She waited for the coffees, and by the time she was out the door too he was long gone. She slid back into the car and handed one to Caleb. He grinned and thanked her for it, but paused before turning the car on and heading out. "Is something wrong?"

The brunette shook her head and licked her bottom lip. "Oh, no. I just ran into one of your friends, I guess." He quirked a brow at her—he didn't _have_ friends, other than the Sons. Melinda knew that. "Aaron Abbott? He's a little weird, no offense."

Caleb's grip on the wheel tightened, and he pulled out of the parking spot quickly. "What did he say to you?" he said in a low voice, almost growling.

Melinda's eyes widened, startled. She'd never seen Caleb angry—ever. "Just to tell you that he said _hello_. Why?"

"Aaron's no friend of mine." He glanced at her from the corner of his eyes before continuing, "He's changed a lot in the last few years, but he was the guy I was telling you about earlier; the bully. He's not a good guy, Melinda—don't ever get stuck with him again, okay?"

"I can take care of myself," she stated, almost obstinately.

Caleb pulled into the Danvers estate and stopped the car with a quick jerk. "I'm serious, Melinda. He's not some demon for you to destroy—he's actually human, but just as horrible. Could you kill a human—again?"

Melinda gasped, and almost immediately Caleb could tell he'd said the wrong thing. She wouldn't look at him, but he could tell she was about to cry. "No, Melinda—I didn't mean it like that. I'm sorry; I just wanted to say—."

She whipped around to face him, and sure enough, tears were streaming down her cheeks from glaring eyes. "I think you've said enough; don't you, Caleb?" She opened the door and stood, wiping away her angry tears. "Goodnight, Caleb," she snapped, orbing away.

Caleb put his head in his hands guiltily.

**.**

Melinda collapsed on the awful gold bed in the guest bedroom, sobbing. She screamed into her pillow and cried even harder when her hands began to shake with unrestrained anger, hurt and passion. She was slowly coming undone, losing control of everything—just like she knew she would.

The brunette threw one of the pillows into the air, and flung her hands out at it, causing it to explode and feathers to fly every which way. She rubbed her damp eyes with her palms, smearing her tears over already stained skin.

How could Caleb say that to her? Another pillow was turned into a load of floating feathers. He betrayed her trust, bringing it up like that—bringing up what she'd done, like she would ever do it again, even to someone worthless like that Aaron man. She told him that in a moment of weakness, letting him know how vulnerable she was, and he turned her secret right back on her like she was some unstable, dark, insane murderer.

Caleb had always seemed so perfect, so faultless before, but he was human, too—and even if that wasn't all he was, he could still make mistakes like anyone else. He was more human than she was, even. It would be wrong to hold this single comment against him, but she couldn't help herself. Melinda just felt so angry, and so wounded, as though by violating her trust Caleb had broke something inside her even more than it was already broken.

She'd never meant to be this damaged, this jaded. She could still remember all the times when she smiled out of pure joy and laughed for no reason other than the silliness of life. Had Ipswich done this to her? Or was it those dreams? The dreams that haunted her memories, and nearly drove her insane—they came every night, now, and Melinda wasn't sure how they would now escalate. First she'd seen Caleb die in her arms, then her own death; what else was there? Nothing. She felt as though she had nothing left, as though everything good had now been corrupted.

Her fists clenched, shaking with the anger they wished to release. Energy bubbled in her hands, begging to be released, like it would make her feel better. It wouldn't, and didn't. Every burst that was let go just gave her less and less control to hold it all in, leaving her weaker when she tried to stop it.

Her mother never mentioned this problem with their powers—but she'd probably never had an issue with it, either, seeing as Piper was a much stronger soul than her daughter. Melinda had gone through so much less loss, and yet she fell prey to more despair than her mother ever had. She buckled under even a ounce of pressure.

Melinda needed something to distract her. She needed something to do, something to make her feel useful, less out of place in this place. With Caleb now clearly not one of her options, seeing how he was going to be at work and she didn't want to talk to him anyways, and Evelyn always busy doing something or other, who else did she have? _What_ did she have?

The word _nothing _would've rolled off her tongue easily, had not several ideas come to mind. She stared down at her hands, reminding herself that she always had something, someone.

**.**

Christina set a tray of fruity-colored glasses down on the table between Pru and Melinda's lounge chairs. Pru grabbed one with the same false happiness that had been her façade since the day before. Melinda eyed the glasses speculatively.

"You do know that neither of us are of age, right?" she asked, unwilling to submit herself to alcohol, even after the past week's suckiness.

She'd woken up that morning curled up on the gold bed, covered in a pile of feathers. Her eyes were dry and pained from all the crying she'd done the night before, but thankfully, Caleb hadn't tried to talk to her at all. He was at work by the time she got up, and she hadn't seen Evelyn at all since she'd orbed out almost immediately. Pru met her over at Reid's place, and they'd been sitting out by the pool for over an hour now while three of the Sons did something or other inside. She hadn't mentioned what Caleb had said, but she had a feeling Pru would say something eventually.

Christina rolled her eyes but grinned, sitting on the edge of Melinda's lounge chair. "Relax, babe, they're all virgin—I may be dating Reid, but that doesn't mean I'm taking up his habit of drinking before noon."

Pru frowned, disappointed, but sipped her sweet drink anyways. Melinda shrugged a bit and gave in, grabbing a glass of her own. They were better than they looked, she decided, tasting like liquified candy mixed with soda.

The elder blonde woman looked at Pru over her glass, and Melinda suspected something big was coming. The pair had never clicked as well as she and Christina had, but they still got along all right ... Sometimes. There were other times, where Pru would say something that just seemed to rub Christina the wrong way, or vice versa. Melinda had a feeling that the only reason Reid's girlfriend put up with Pru was because of Melinda; if Melinda was anywhere, Pru usually was too. She probably also didn't want to get on Pogue's bad side.

"So, Pru," Christina began, pausing while waiting for Pru to turn to face her. Pru did so, somewhat reluctantly. "Has your sister been found yet?"

Everyone had been told the same story after Pru's breakdown the previous day—Penny, her sister, was missing. A select few were told the hard facts—Penny seemed to have run away. Pru liked the first story better, since she didn't like thinking that her sister had run away from their life, or that her sister wasn't happy with where she was. Pru liked talking about her sister's disappearance even less than that. Not many were brave enough to mention it, but apparently Christina had balls.

Pru's eyes visibly hardened and she shook her head. "No, but I'm sure she will be soon. We all miss her very much, and can't wait until she can come back home." She spoke with confidence, like she was completely sure of what was going to happen when Penny reappeared, something of which Melinda wasn't sure of at all.

"You think she's going to come back?"

Melinda swallowed and sat up straighter, preparing herself to grab Pru before she could attack Christina, but it turned out to be unnecessary. Pru simply nodded, and stated firmly, "I _know _she's going to come back. She would never leave us of her own will."

The brunette winced at the outright lie, but stayed quiet. It wasn't her place to straighten Pru out. Apparently Christina thought differently, though, because the next thing Melinda knew, she was speaking up in an obviously controlled voice.

"What if she did, and she's happier where she is?"

Her blonde cousin set her jaw determinedly. "That's ridiculous. You shouldn't say stuff like that." She set down her glass calmly and stood. "Besides," she added quietly, with a tinge of sadness in her voice, "She could never be happy without me."

Christina pursed her lips and got up and left them, just like Pru had been about to do. Melinda stared after her, confused, but didn't move. Pru sat back down on her cousin's chair and curled up beside her. "Do you think Penny could really be happy without me?"

Melinda shook her head and stroked Pru's hair softly. "No. Penny loves you so much, Pru, and love means a lot to her—more than anything in the world. She probably misses you very much right now."

Pru nodded and turned to look at her elder cousin. "What's up with you today? Did you talk to Caleb like I told you to?"

Aunt Phoebe had told her to do the same thing, but Melinda wasn't about to mention it. "No, I didn't," the blonde opened her mouth, probably to shout at her about her stupidity, but she cut her off. "And before you say anything, I already know what I'm going to do."

Pru's brow furrowed. "Huh?"

"Remember how I said I felt useless, and how ... Well, how I'm not going anywhere in life? How I don't have a purpose?" Melinda admitted reluctantly, not really liking the truth of the matter, nor her true reasons for her decision.

Her cousin shook her head, protesting, "That's nonsense, Min-Min. You have a purpose—."

"I know, I know—I just haven't found my purpose yet, or whatever," Pru frowned at Melinda's lack of enthusiasm, "But what I was going to say was that there's a position at Magic School that I'm interested in, and I'm going in later to talk to some people."

What Melinda didn't mention was that the _position_ wasn't for teaching—it was for learning. It was to help people like her, those that had destructive powers they needed help controlling. If she got good at it, she would even be able to help teach control later on.

Pru's brows shot up in her hair line. "Are you serious? That's great! Congratulations." She gave her cousin a quick hug, but pulled back immediately. "That means you're going to be gone a lot, doesn't it?"

She nodded in response. It _did_ mean that. It also meant she was going to be busy and excruciatingly exhausted a lot of the time, too, but she didn't mention that. It didn't seem like pertinent information that Pru really needed to know.

"I'm going to miss you," she whispered, like it was a secret she didn't want to share with anyone save Melinda.

The brunette smiled sadly. "I'll miss you bunches, too, P. But it's not like we'll never see each other again." _Not yet, anyway_, Melinda thought.

Pru nodded, seeming somewhat satisfied with the answer. She dragged her inside, where they shared the news that she was interviewing at a school with everyone else. That was the story they were told publicly, anyway. Once Christina was out of earshot, everyone was told she was going to Magic School, which they thought was way cooler than an ordinary school.

After a few hours' celebration, Melinda orbed out for her 'interview', feeling marginally nervous.

**.**

When she orbed back into the Danvers Manor, it was pretty late. Time was different at Magic School; not quite as much so as in Elder-land, but still, it was enough of a difference to cause her to feel off-balance. Melinda missed her target—the guest bedroom—and orbed into the hall instead, mid-yawn.

She entered the gold-swathed room without realizing that the light inside was already on, and Caleb was waiting for her. He appeared to have been pacing the length of the room, and stopped when she set foot inside.

Melinda paused, frozen. She stared at him without any emotion inside of her, noting how he looked guilty, and apologetic. He looked tired, too, but handsome as always. She didn't say anything, not knowing of anything to say—or yell—that would make the situation better.

Ipswich had been a whole new experience for Melinda; it was drenched with happiness, sadness, pain, and if she wanted to admit it, some love.

Ipswich had been a whole new mistake for Melinda. She couldn't handle anymore mistakes after everything. It was just too much to bear; she wasn't strong enough, and though she felt dumb admitting that, it had to be said. Perhaps she would later think of Ipswich and all that had happened here as one big mistake—another in her long line of them.

She was ready to move on from this mistake. She was ready to gain some control over her emotions, over her power. She wasn't ready for Caleb, though, or for what would surely happen if she stayed. Melinda was going to take her aunt's advice—that there was more she could do than worry; that she should do something, change something.

_The future isn't set in stone_.

"I'm sorry," he announced, sounding strained.

His apology pulled her out of her thoughts. She blinked at him, eyes searching, looking for something that just wasn't there. When she didn't find it, just like she knew she wouldn't, she turned to the closet. She pulled out one of the bags Wyatt and Chris had brought her, and set it down on the bed, open.

She dropped a stack of clothing in it, and glanced back at him over her shoulder. "And I'm leaving."

* * *

**AN: **Did anybody expect that? I certainly didn't. I mean, since I'm the author I knew it was coming, but I didn't know it was coming _now_. Anyways, just thought I'd let everyone know that I'm a terrible promiser. I promised everyone I'd send out those 'sneak peeks' for every chapter, but I didn't for last chapter, since I didn't write any of the 8,000 words until today, and I figured you guys wouldn't want to wait any longer for an update. I'm probably not going to be doing those sneak peeks anymore. They're too much effort for such little things.

I started to re-read this story from the beginning, and decided that it pretty much sucked back then. Like, I've had the story all planned out since the beginning, so the plot hasn't changed at all, but the presentation of it has, I guess. Maybe it's my writing. Has it gotten better, or am I just full of more crap than I was last December?

And before any of you guys freak out, Melinda didn't just dump him, if that's what you're thinking. There's just ... More to the story? Haha, that's kind of ironic. Sorry. :]


	19. New Round of Mistakes

New Round of Mistakes

**

* * *

**

Caleb watched her with a hardened edge to his jaw, not speaking. His lips were pursed in a line and his face as a whole was impassive, revealing no emotions. Anyone might have said that he simply looked stoic, or perhaps lost in thought, but Melinda knew that Caleb put on a placid face when he needed to shut down—it was how he got his emotions under control again. She tried not to feel the guilt that came rushing at her when she thought of everything that mask had to be hiding; pain, anger, sadness ... She didn't want to think about it. She wasn't _going_ to think about it.

Melinda picked up another stack of clothes, setting them down in the inside of the large suitcase. She swallowed and stilled in her movements, clenching her fingers around the sides of the case like its stiff structure could give her strength to spout another lie. "It's time for me to go home, Caleb." She glanced up at him, and flinched before looking down at her hands—Caleb was staring right at her, eyes boring into her own, empty of any solace they had once held for her.

"I can't stay here forever." And that wasn't a lie. She really couldn't. Melinda didn't have a place in Ipswich like she did back in San Francisco, or even in Magic School. But not only did she not fit in, she didn't even know if Caleb _wanted_ her to stay. He'd never spoken decisively on either side of the subject, leaving the decision to her. And even more than that, she _couldn't _stay. Those dreams ...

It could've been her imagination, but Melinda swore she heard him ask, "Why not?" However, when she glanced back up at him, his face was cold and motionless, like he had never spoke at all.

"I don't belong here," she offered softly, answering the unspoken question.

She sat down on the edge of the bed, fiddling with her fingers. He took a few steps forward, until he was standing right before her, within reach, but neither made contact with the other. "Stay for the night," he stated calmly, like an order. His voice was quiet and rough, but resonated with power, as it always had the capacity to and often did.

The petite brunette nodded almost helplessly, but refused to look up at him. "Of course." She never wouldn't do anything he wanted her to.

Caleb was the first to break it—the neutrality, the indifference; it was like a truce that had been drawn between them, but both were unwilling, _unable_ to keep it, even though they knew it would inevitably be drawn up again. His hand brushed her cheek, and her eyes closed, relishing his warmth, the rough feel of his skin against her own. She pressed her cheek further into his touch, and his thumb brushed across her lips.

As quickly as it had come, his hand was gone. She opened her eyes, but Caleb had disappeared.

A tear fell from her eye—had she only imagined it? She put her own hand on her cheek, but there was nothing; no trace of him to be had. Her skin didn't tingle from his touch like all the heroines' did in romance novels.

Caleb had never touched her at all, she decided.

She really was going crazy.

**.**

"You didn't tell me you were _leaving_, leaving!" Pru exclaimed, yelling as she flung the doors to the guest bedroom open. Her face was flushed with frustration, and her hands were proudly placed on her hips, as though she were prepared to fight to keep her cousin from _leaving_, leaving.

Melinda rolled her eyes and finished tying her shoes. She stood up, brushed her hands off on her jeans, and eyed her put out cousin. "What other kind of leaving is there?" The brunette asked with a sly, mirthful smile.

The blonde growled and narrowed her eyes. "Not funny, Min-Min."

"I don't know," she shrugged, "I thought it was pretty funny." Melinda's smile fell when she saw that her cousin was being serious, and she reached out to pull the girl close, wrapping her arms around her in a tight hug.

"Why didn't you tell me you were leaving? _Pogue_ told me you were leaving. And he heard it from Evelyn, who heard it from one of the maids that was eavesdropping on you guys." Melinda raised an eyebrow disbelievingly. "Seriously. You two are the worst best friends ever. Can't even tell us when ... " Pru trailed off when she saw that Melinda's face had fallen.

"Shit, I'm sorry. _I'm_ the worst best friend ever. What did I say? I give you total permission to blast me into oblivion for it."

Melinda laughed, pasting a fake smile on her face, and shook her head. "Nothing. I'm just tired, I guess."

She really _was_ tired, but that wasn't why she was having such a hard time with Pru's words—Pru didn't need to know that, though; lately there had been a lot of things Pru didn't need to know. She was already feeling guilty about everything, and now she had to feel guilty about Pru while also being ... _Jealous_. She shouldn't have been, but she was, and that was that. Melinda didn't want to admit it, but perhaps a small, tiny, insignificant amount of her had thought—_hoped_—that when Pru found out she was leaving, Pru would come home to Cali too.

But her blonde cousin was happy here. She didn't want to leave, she didn't _have_ to leave. She loved being in Ipswich with Pogue, and was perfectly comfortable here. She was _safe_ here. Why couldn't Melinda have adjusted to Ipswich that well, too? Why did Ipswich have to reject her the way it did? She was just defective, that was the only answer that made sense—wasn't Ipswich like a whole knew round of opportunities? A whole new experience?

_A whole new round of mistakes_, her subconscious interjected, but she quickly squashed the thought when Pru leaned back to observe her cousin's face.

"We're all going to miss you so much, Min," Pru whispered, burying her face in her best friend's hair. Suddenly she pulled back, bursting with laughter.

Melinda looked at the girl, confused. "What?" She had obviously missed something if her cousin thought their impending separation was hilarious, as she certainly hadn't a minute ago.

Pru shook her head, still laughing, and pulled away. "It's just—Christina. She practically flipped her lid when she found out you were leaving. Apparently, she's gonna miss you a _bunch_."

The brunette rolled her eyes, but chuckled regardless. Yes, she could definitely see Reid's girlfriend freaking out after finding out the only girl she really got on with was leaving town to go across the country. "Well, you can tell her I'm gonna miss her bunches, too."

"Actually, _you _can tell her that," Pru countered, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Everyone's here to say goodbye to you."

"Wh—_what_? Why_?_ It's not like you guys are never going to see me again!" Melinda groused, huffing, "This is ridiculous."

The blonde just smirked and rolled her eyes. "Oh, boo freaking hoo. You have friends that love you and want to say goodbye. Get over it."

Melinda blushed, feeling a bit embarrassed at her cousin's scolding. She'd never really had a lot of friends to say goodbye to, besides her family. Sure, there were the occasional people at Magic School that she'd gotten along with pretty well, and she liked them alright, but it was hard to stay friends with people when they couldn't be invited over, lest they begin to drool and worship the ground your brothers and parents walked on. At a young age she learned that the only real friends she could have were her family members. The same seemed to apply to the Sons—they were only friends with each other, and were all brothers, in the least technical sense.

She and Caleb had more similarities than she'd like to admit, and there seemed to be a large amount of things she didn't want to admit lately. Did that mean she was hiding more? Melinda wasn't sure what it meant, if it meant anything at all. Maybe that was just another reason why she was leaving, she supposed.

**.**

Because Christina wanted to say goodbye, Melinda had to put on a show of leaving. Tyler offered to take her to the 'airport', which in reality was just an abandoned park that was out of viewing range from anyone nearby, where her brothers would orb in to get her stuff, and she'd orb out with them.

Everyone exchanged hugs with her, and each of the three Sons told her they expected her to drop in soon to see them—Reid's seemed a little insincere, but she ignored it, feeling that he wished her to stay and not leave at all. Pru's goodbye was kept short, since she'd already had her time with Melinda to say goodbye, and Christina's was, quite surprisingly, the longest yet. The taller blonde pulled her off to the side of the group and gave her a tight hug, looking insistent and frantic.

She leaned in close to whisper something directly into Melinda's ear, like it was a secret no one else was allowed to hear. "Be careful," Christina urged commandingly.

Melinda pulled back, somewhat confused. Why would she say that? Maybe she was just remembering that Melinda didn't like airplanes, and since the blonde was the only one under the impression that she was actually going on one, she wanted to make sure she'd be okay. It still seemed a little off, though. "Okay," she assured her when Reid's girlfriend looked at her with doubt and worry. "I will—I promise I will."

Christina nodded and turned slightly when Reid called her name. However, she looked back with even more intensity in her eyes than before, and gripped the shorter girl's arms tightly. "Don't forget to always trust in your heart," she advised with the same intensity as her last remark.

The brunette nodded, and Christina was off, back at Reid's side with a smile on her face as though the awkward, one-sided conversation had never occurred. She didn't glance back once, and the brunette was left with the feeling that she'd missed something. She tried to brush it off for the time being, instead focusing on her other friends.

And then Melinda had only one person left to say goodbye to.

Caleb.

He was standing to the side of everyone, looking strong and unwavering but at the same time unfocused and misdirected. Although he was physically present, Melinda could easily tell that mentally, he wasn't—his thoughts were just elsewhere. She stood, all the way on the opposite end of the room, simply watching him for a few moments.

Was he thinking about her? Perhaps he was, she thought, toying with the idea that perchance Caleb wanted her to stay in Ipswich. In spite of the fact that he'd never said so aloud, she couldn't help but wonder, and maybe wish ... But it just wasn't feasible. She _knew_ she couldn't stay, but not only that, she also knew that he'd never told her she could stay for that long. When he'd first invited her home with him, he'd clearly stated that she could stay as long as she wanted—like a pity invite.

Wasn't the saying, "mi casa es su casa''? The phrase just gave off bad connotations to Melinda, almost as though Caleb had really meant that he didn't care how long she stayed in Ipswich; her presence didn't bother him. Did it please him, she wondered, that she'd stayed here for over a week? Was he glad? Did he like having her around? He'd never said anything on the matter. They had kissed, but lots of people kissed casually, she knew, although she doubted Caleb would be one of those people.

It was just too weird, staying in Ipswich, with nothing to do, nowhere to fit in perfectly, like at Magic School. Like at the Manor. And, Melinda reassured herself, it wasn't like she'd never come back. She could occasionally orb back and forth, since she now knew her orbing was sufficient, so what would ever hold her back from visiting besides herself? Nothing, besides those nightmares. She could come and leave at will, and no one would miss her otherwise. She'd be happier at home, she knew—at _her_ home. It was where she belonged. And everyone would be safer if she was at home. Anyone who didn't like that would just have to get over it, she decided on an impulse.

Her feet had carried her across the long entrance hall before Melinda knew what had happened. Caleb's eyes were now focused on her, but he stood with an even-tempered expression on his face that was simply too familiar not to hit home for Melinda; it was the same one he wore when they'd fought and she'd been angry with him.

But she was no longer angry with him, and they weren't fighting. It was merely time for her to go home. Nothing more, nothing less.

She opened her mouth to say the word of the day, "Goodbye," but he cut her off before she had the chance.

"Why?" Caleb asked quietly, his dulcet tones sounding both uncaring and yet hopeless.

Melinda glanced at her feet, feeling weak. Caleb had always made her feel small, though; he'd never done it on purpose—at least, she hoped not—but it was something he did often. No wonder she'd been so shy when they first met. He had a commanding, authoritative presence while she had a ... Much more _delicate _one. Which was just another reason why she needed to go to Magic School; her magic couldn't be controlled simply because she wasn't a controlling person. Or at least, it was another theory. In addition to that point, there was also her main intention, which was the only thing fueling her to keep with her choice. Melinda wanted to give in and stay with Caleb—regardless of whether he wanted her to or not—badly, _so _badly, but she couldn't make herself do it. She just couldn't face the outcome.

The brunette felt a burst of strength and looked back up at him, meeting his dark brown eyes. "It's something I have to do," she said with a slight shrug, trying to come off as careless as he did. When he nodded sullenly, enthusiasm sparked within her like a fire to his match; he had bought one of her half-truths! Surely he would believe another. "Besides, it's not like I'll never visit again. I'm only an orb away."

He didn't respond immediately, instead staring at her as though he was trying to read her. She tried as hard as possible to make her face as impassive as his, and felt her cheeks flush with a little anger that made it past her wall. How dare he try to figure out what she was feeling when she had no clue herself? Melinda didn't even know what _he_ was feeling. She was completely out of the loop feelings-wise. He deserved to be the same, no matter how childish the thought was.

She gave a forced chuckle, and stammered nervously, spewing more lies and nonsense, "It—it's not like I can stay here for the rest of my life, Caleb. This is your home; not mine."

Something flashed in those dark eyes—not the cheerful, pure joy she'd become so accustomed to seeing in them, but something harder. Determination. Melinda closed her eyes and steeled herself for his irate comeback, but never received it. Instead she was given something much different.

His warm, if slightly rough, lips brushed hers, molding against them like a long-forgotten glove. She embraced the kiss, trying to make it last forever, but all too soon Caleb pulled away. He straightened up, looking at her as if he now knew she was hiding something—as if he perceived her differently, as if he knew all her secrets from a kiss.

Melinda licked her lips and glanced away, wringing her hands. No one in the room seemed to have realized they'd just kissed; she was glad for their obliviousness, if not only because they had just been publicly affectionate for the first time, but also because the kiss had tasted, felt, and probably looked like the goodbye it truly was embodying.

Caleb let out a breath, and she turned her head back to face him. "You aren't coming back."

It wasn't a question.

She pursed her lips and paused for a moment before shaking her head, denying his accusation. "I will. I'll come back. I'm your wife, aren't I?"

"_Are_ you?"

Melinda flinched at his angry words. Unlike most of the conversations they'd had in the past day, he actually sounded like he cared to hear her answer. He sounded like he knew what her answer would be, and it wasn't the answer she wanted to give. She sucked in a breath and crossed her arms. "Since you've got me all figured out, Caleb, why don't you tell me?"

She walked away before he could answer and picked up her bags. Tyler grabbed his keys. Pru's shouted final goodbyes could be heard through the slammed door to the Danvers manor.

**.**

Christina shook her head sadly as she overheard Caleb and Melinda's conversation. Her heart was breaking; her only thought was on a never-ending cycle, constantly repeating: _This wasn't supposed to happen; not like this. Never like this_. She leaned into her only support—Reid. He unconsciously wrapped an arm around her waist, latching on close.

**.**

Everyone watched as tiny Melinda exited the house with Ty. Everyone, that is, but Reid.

He glanced over at his brother, intending to do so just for a moment, but his eyes caught something on Caleb's face; in his eyes—something that he hadn't seen in ten years. The blond swallowed and tore his glance away and back to the woman at his side.

Christina was looking up at him with saddened eyes.

A question bubbled within him, spilling out of his mouth quietly before he could stop it. "She isn't leaving because she wants to, is she?"

She glanced away, and Reid wanted to take the question back. How would she know the answer to it? He shouldn't have asked. If he hadn't asked, Christina would never have known he had been wondering it. However, it was too late now, and the question was just awkwardly sitting out there—.

"No," the blonde replied, facing away from him so he couldn't see her expression. "She isn't. But he isn't exactly stopping her either, is he?"

Reid knew it was a bit of a stab towards Caleb, and she sounded rather peeved as she said it, but he let it pass. She was kind of right, his spitfire woman.

He licked his lips and the fingers on his right hand twitched with old habits. "No, he isn't."

**.**

Melinda laid in bed, looking up at the ceiling, her eyes begging it for answers. The smooth wall didn't reply. She told it the string of lies she'd been reciting to herself all day.

"I'll be fine," she told the white wall above her. _No, I won't_. "I hope Caleb moves on. He doesn't need me to pull him down," _What a lie!_ "I'll go visit them soon. In a few days." _Bull_.

Then, finally the hardest one to swallow came tumbling out. She'd tried to keep it in for so long, _but_—"I'm doing the right thing."

_LIAR! _Her conscience screamed. _Liar, liar, pants on fire _...

But how could she be lying when all the evidence she had told Melinda that she was, in fact, doing the right thing? Aunt Phoebe agreed. No one else knew that the true reason she came back didn't regard the 'position' at Magic School, other than the Elders, but she wasn't really in the mood to talk with them about her rationalization.

They knew that her future in Ipswich was jeopardized. They knew that something had to be changed in order to alter the outcome. However, they didn't know if when Melinda left Ipswich, she modified the events. But it was the only way to permute the inevitable—at least, they hoped it was.

And yet she still felt like a liar. She still felt like she'd betrayed Caleb, hurt him, ruined everything. Melinda hoped that maybe someday he'd see all that she'd done—for him, for her, for all of them—and forgive her. Despite that, though ... The costs of changing the future were certainly beginning to outweigh the outcome, if there was any outcome at all.

A soft knock on the door to her bedroom caught her attention. Piper pushed the door open when she got no reply and smiled sadly at her daughter. "Good morning, baby."

She hummed her indifference in reply. Piper stepped further into the room and sat on the edge of Melinda's bed, reaching her hand to stroke her daughter's hair lovingly. "I've missed having you here this past week—no one to help me get potion ingredients, search through the book, add onto the book, or even help fight demons."

Melinda looked up sharply. "Have there been any attacks?"

"Nothing big; none important enough to mention," she hedged vaguely. "It's just not the same without having you here, you know? I really missed my baby girl." Piper looked away from her daughter, her eyes unfocused like she was lost in thought.

She watched her mother with suspicious eyes. Piper was loving and maternal and everything, but she was never _that _lovey-dovey; just protective. Something else was going on, she was sure of it. "Momma," Melinda put a hand on her mother's arm, dragging the elder Halliwell's attention back to her. "Is something wrong?"

Perhaps _wrong_ wasn't the right word to use; perhaps her mother was on edge, or maybe she was keeping something to herself, but whatever it was, Piper shook her head and quickly dodged the question. "You better get ready, babe. It's quarter till and you've gotta be there by nine fifteen, right?"

"Oh, shoot!"

**.**

Breakfast at the Garwin's was never an ordinary affair. This was partially related to the fact that the people eating the breakfast were anything but ordinary, and partially because of the very breakfast itself. Usually, this wasn't the case, but things had drastically changed in the last few weeks with new additions to their weekly breakfast club.

Caleb usually cooked up the french toast, pancakes, waffles, or crêpes. Reid did the eggs—scrambled, fried hard-boiled, and over-easy. Sometimes the blond did hash browns, too. Pogue was all over the meat; he could fry bacon, ham, and sausage all to perfection. Tyler wasn't allowed to cook too much. He had a tendency to overcook or light things on fire. He was put on fruit duty, chopping up watermelon and cantaloupe. The irony was not often lost on Reid, who went back and forth when determining if his good friend was gay or not.

However, that morning's breakfast was different.

Caleb wimped out, citing that he had some paperwork to do at the firm. Reid knew that was bull; it was Saturday, who works on Saturdays? Losers, he knew, like Caleb, that needed an excuse to get out of seeing their friends since their wives left them.

That left the three of the Sons, plus Pru and Christina. Pru was enlisted to take over Caleb's job, which worked out fine, except for when Pogue distracted her with his mouth and things kept burning. Although everyone was required to help, Christina got left out since she was a picky eater. She always ate weird foods at the wrong times of day. She made her own breakfast, which Reid curled his nose at.

"That's fucking nasty," he commented with a shudder as she cut an avocado in half, took the seed out, then cut the halves into little cubes. She popped a few of the cubes in her mouth with a smile.

As though she could smell it, Pru whipped around, her eyes set on the fruit in Christina's hand. "Is that an avocado?"

Christina grinned and handed the other half to Pru, who bit into it excitedly. She looked at Reid with a smirk that rivaled his own. "See? I'm not the only one that likes them. Avocado's are delicious."

"Amen!" Pru chorused, winking at Christina.

Reid's girlfriend winked back and stood on her toes to peck him on the lips, but Reid refused her mouth, claiming it was _avocado-infested_. She smacked his butt as he walked away, laughing when he jumped slightly in shock.

Tyler rolled his eyes but smiled, happy that his friend had finally found someone that could keep up with him, dish his shit back at him; someone he never seemed to tire of. Matches like the two of them were rare, but lately they'd been everywhere in front of him—first Caleb and Melinda, who were like chocolate and vanilla, always balancing each other out; then Pogue and Pru, the pair that were two of a kind; and after what felt like too long, Reid had snatched a girl that actually _liked_ his obnoxious quirks. Apparently he didn't mind hers too much, either.

They sat around the carefully positioned breakfast table, which only had four chairs for the four Sons. Christina had unknowingly—or maybe knowingly; she liked to mess with Reid as much as he liked to with everyone else—taken Reid's seat, leaving him with nowhere to sit once Pru sat down in Caleb's usual chair, placing her feet in Pogue's lap with a thunk that left him jolted. Ty quickly nabbed his own seat, and Reid huffed, seatless.

He glared around the table, unwilling to pull a chair up to the four-sided table, where a fifth would ruin the symmetry, and his eyes alighted upon his girlfriend with a spark. She shifted warily in her spot when he went towards her mischievously, but allowed him to sit on her lap when he plopped down on her legs.

"Oh, _god_, you're so fat!" Christina joked, groaning at his weight. He wiggled atop her thighs comfortably and grinned, settling his plate beside her own.

She soon dropped her playfully annoyed act and wound her arms around his waist, clearly happy with his choice of seating.

Tyler rolled his eyes again, watching his other table-mates carefully.

Both Reid and Pogue feasted like a pair of gluttons that had starved for years, shoveling food into their mouths like they would never get a chance to eat again. Christina had finished her avocado and was working on honey toast, which had been covered in chopped raspberries, strawberries, pineapple, almonds, chocolate, and banana. Pru was looking at her suspiciously, eating from her own dish rather slowly so as to keep an eye on her. The younger blonde's plate seemed to Tyler like a crossover between Christina's and Reid and Pogue's—it had all of Christina's fruit, topped with honey, all sitting atop a stack of syrupy french toast and sausage.

He glanced at her curiously, wondering why Pru looked so cynical all of a sudden. She didn't glance his way once however, too focused on Christina.

Reid stole his attention when he spoke up rather loudly, sounding frustrated. "Caleb isn't here to call us pigs and tell us we're gonna get fat if we eat this much," he complained.

"You guys are pigs and you're going to get fat if you eat that much," Tyler deadpanned.

The blond rolled his eyes, but Pogue was the first to reply. "Caleb would never have said that—he's not crude. He would've told us that the cholesterol was bad for us, or that our arteries were clogging by the bite ... Something intelligibly rude, y'know."

Tyler grinned and added, "And he would've sounded brilliant and incredibly correct saying it, but neither of you would have listened, anyway."

"Yeah, but he's not here to remind us that we're going to die from cholesterol OD," Reid groused persistently.

"That's not really how it works, babe." Christina cut in. Her boyfriend shrugged her comment off.

"So? I still wish he was here. It doesn't change that he's not here."

Pogue clenched his jaw and crumpled his napkin in his hand. "Reid," he growled, warning his younger brother.

Reid continued as though the biker hadn't spoken up at all. "It doesn't change the fact that he's not here because _Melinda_ isn't here, because _Melinda's _gone and he's moping. Caleb would be here if she were here, too!"

"_Reid!_" Pogue slammed his hand down on the table, making them all start and jump. "That's enough."

The blond just huffed and walked off.

**.**

Claire Lawson hadn't glanced in Melinda's direction once during the entire meeting. Yes, she'd been busy—discussing the course, the teachers, how everyone would be specifically placed according to their weaknesses—but she'd looked nearly every single attendee in the eyes at least once in the duration of the meeting.

Melinda had no clue as to why. She'd been raised with Claire; Paige and Leo were always working with her at Magic School, having hand-picked and trained her to be the head of the School when neither were around. Claire had met her when she was just a little baby, and had helped her with her school work more than once. So why was Claire avoiding her?

Directly after the end of the meeting, she discovered her answer: Claire wasn't ignoring her at all. She marched right up to Melinda with the same deceptively demure smile that she had always had, and spoke in that southern drawl, "What're you doin' here, girl?"

She had to smile; Claire was as commanding as ever. She shrugged, glancing around to see that a few others were looking at her curiously as well. "I'm here for the classes. I had some time to spare."

Claire quirked her brow. "Last I heard, you didn't have any time for magic at all—you got a husband now. Where's he at, anyway? I didn't get to meet him at the weddin'."

"Work," she answered evasively. "But like I said, I'm here for the classes, Claire."

"Why?" the lanky blonde woman asked, seeming confused. "Did you want to help out in them? I could always use more teachers."

Melinda shook her head. "No, I didn't come to teach. I came to attend."

Claire snorted, throwing her head back and releasing belly-shaking laughter. "_You?_ Attend my classes? _Why?_ It's not like you need them; you've got perfect control over your powers, always have and always will. It's in your blood."

The brunette flushed. Claire was so off the mark, it wasn't even funny. "Not anymore," she commented. "I haven't for a while, and I don't know what's wrong with me."

The older woman looked at her with hard, steady eyes, evaluating her. She pursed her lips, but after a moment she nodded. "Okay," Claire grabbed her arm and pulled her off into one of the rooms that was adjoined to the meeting room and shut the door behind her. She turned back to the Halliwell woman with her arms crossed. "What's goin' on with you? The Melinda Halliwell I know never asked for help from anyone."

"She never needed to," Melinda quipped, earning herself a dark look. She sighed and rubbed her temple, remembering the too-familiar ache. "I don't even know where to begin, Claire. I mean—I guess it all started up after I left Magic School in May."

The brunette paused, but Claire nodded her along. Melinda had only left Magic School because she didn't need it anymore; there was nothing anyone at the school could teach her better than her own mother, whom had the same powers to the T.

"My powers started acting up, and not just the orbing and other whitelighter crap. Like, if I wasn't careful, I would freeze everybody in the room by accident. It made me jumpy, always having to focus on _not_ focusing on my powers, which only made things worse. When I tried to freeze something, I'd blow it up, and when I would want to vanquish a demon, I'd end up trying to freeze him. It's just like when I started orbing."

"What do you mean?"

Melinda sighed, not wishing to remember the mess the whitelighter powers had created for her. "The headaches I got—you remember them?" Claire nodded; Melinda had been blowing up things by accident from all the stress the new powers had caused her. "I had them for a month or so, and I was worried I was picking up _another_ power, but nothing showed itself. It's been over two months since then, and all my powers are still going haywire." Her voice suddenly cracked with a worry she hadn't shared with anyone. "What if ... What if I've got a new power, and because I haven't developed it at all, it gets like my whitelighter ones?"

Claire winced in sympathy. Melinda's whitelighter powers were a source of discomfort for just about everyone. She'd been conceived and born in the time when Leo was still human; it was before the Elders made him a whitelighter again. And yet, Melinda had the whitelighter powers, not quite similar to her brothers' but yet the same. The theory was that the Elders hadn't made him _entirely_ human, or perhaps he'd been a whitelighter for so long that it had just become engrained into him, but whatever it was—Melinda had whitelighter powers, and they freaked her out. They freaked everyone out when they first started showing up in her teens; she'd orbed into the kitchen one morning, and just like that, she'd been classified as part whitelighter.

However, that _part_ was so small, that it barely made a difference. Her orbing was usually off by a feet feet on a good day. She couldn't heal anything. Her telekinesis wasn't through orbs, but instead more like her Aunt Prue's. She couldn't hear people call her. She couldn't glamour worth crap. Her photokinesis was hit and miss, similar to her orbing. Melinda's lack of powers was frustrating, to say the least, when with her heritage there was so much expected of her.

The truly sad part, though, was that her potential to develop the rest of her whitelighter powers on her own had been huge. She could have grown into them, if she'd taken the time to try and test them out. However, she banished that side of herself, being embarrassed of her quirk, and embraced her other magic. The result of the lack of development was that it left the few working powers she had somewhat stunted, although it didn't affect the molecular combustion or immobilization.

Melinda was worried that her mysterious new power, if she had one like she and her Aunt Phoebe believed, would malfunction.

"I don't know, Melinda ... It doesn't seem like you have a new power. I don't sense anything different about your aura. Is there something else going on?"

The petite brunette looked down at her feet. Yes, something else was most definitely going on.

**.**

Pru got up and left the room moments after Christina excused herself. She followed her out of the room, but lost sight of her in the hallways. The blonde glanced up the stairs, but didn't see the other woman. She was about to head towards the kitchen, when a hand closed around her arm and tugged her into the hall closet. The door shut behind her, and immediately a light clicked on.

"_Tyler?_"

Tyler shrugged somewhat sheepishly, but didn't lose the determined look in his eye. He didn't fail to recognize the look mirrored in Pru's own eyes as she had followed Christina. "What was with you today?"

Her eyebrows furrowed and she crossed her arms. "I don't know what you mean."

"Sure you do. You've been acting weird since we left the kitchen before breakfast." Pru's jaw hardened in place, and Tyler knew that he'd almost hit the spot. "All I want to know is why."

She crossed her arms and looked back towards the closet door. "I've got no clue what you're going on about, Ty."

He huffed. "Oh, yeah? Then why have you been watching Christina like a hawk?"

Pru shifted her weight on her feet and chewed on her lips. "You're going to think I'm crazy," she said softly, looking up at him warily. He didn't answer, waiting for her to continue. "There's something up with her, Ty, I swear. Something ... Something not right."

"What do you mean?" Tyler asked robotically. He'd had a feeling she would say something like that, but it didn't mean she was crazy—or right. "How do you know?"

"Well," she hesitated. "Did you see what she was eating?"

Tyler paused, too. Pru may have been slightly crazy. "Fruit and toast?"

"Don't look at me like that. I'm _not _crazy. She was eating an avocado, honey, fruits, almonds and _chocolate._ And then her coffee just now; black, with a stick of hard, old-fashioned licorice." She stared at him expectantly. "Don't you get it?"

He cleared his throat. "Uh, she likes sugar? She's gonna get cavities?"

"No!" Pru fisted her hands. "Don't be ridiculous, Tyler." She rolled her eyes. Tyler barely refrained from mentioning that _she_ was the ridiculous one. "Do you remember what she ate yesterday?"

Tyler glanced up at her with cynical eyes. "I don't know, Pru. Some asparagus? A salad, or something?" He frowned, thinking over his conflicting words. "Wow, a sugarholic that likes veggies? Maybe you _are_ on to something, Pru."

She slugged him. "Shut up! She had asparagus, carrots, broccoli, and an arugula salad—one with pine nuts in it."

"I still don't see the issue here. She eats weird food, okay. But something's not right with her because she eats weird food? I dunno. I think she may just be weird."

Pru sighed, reaching a hand up to rub her forehead exasperatedly. "How can you not see? All those foods are _aphrodisiacs_, Tyler. All she's been eating are aphrodisiacs. I haven't seen her eating anything but this whole time. I can't believe I haven't noticed it until today ... "

Tyler was frowning when she looked over at him. He still didn't seem to get it. "Okay, she's eating foods that make her horny?"

She rolled her eyes. "God, you're such a guy. Aphrodisiacs aren't just about lust and sex, Tyler. They're about _love_. The average person eats one or two servings of an aphrodisiac a day, and not purposefully."

"How do you even _know_ all this?"

"Jeez. For a male witch, you're pretty unobservant, aren't you?" He glared at her, but she ignored him. "Seriously. My dad's a full-blown Cupid, as is my sister—or at least, she _will_ be in like ten years. Cupid's practically survive off of aphrodisiacs alone. I mean, I only have some Cupid genes, and I still have to eat more than two servings of aphrodisiacs a day just to make sure I don't go nuts. Usually when people eat aphrodisiacs, they get kind of love-crazy. But when Cupids eat them ... It's just like fuel." Pru paused to let it sink in.

The brunette swallowed, his mind on aphrodisiacs.

The door flung open. Pogue stood outside of the closet, looking at them curiously. "You makin' a move on my girl, Baby Boy?"

Pru laughed and stepped up to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing a kiss against his cheek. "He would never." She looped her arm through his and they started walking down the hall. When they turned the corner, she looked over her shoulder and shot Ty a significant glance.

He wasn't sure what to make of it, or anything. He needed to know more about Cupids, and what one would want with Reid—if Christina was one, anyway.

**.**

Melinda woke up gasping, sweat dripping from her brow and soaking her light nightclothes. She pushed the covers back and planted her feet on the ground, leaning over to place her head between her knees and breathe in deep, calming breaths.

"I'm alright. I'm alright. I'm alright," she chanted softly yet sternly to herself. The words were supposed to hold meaning, they were supposed to comfort her ... And yet they didn't; not at all. Of course, Claire had told her to chant the words if she got headaches or any panic attacks, not recurring nightmares in which she was murdered, since she hadn't told Claire about the nightmares at all.

The brunette pursed her lips and raised her head to rest it in her hands, allowing the weight of her body to settle in and her heartbeat to slow gradually.

This was her pattern, her method. Every night, she'd lie in bed with a cup of coffee, willing herself not to fall asleep. Melinda did, though, every night. It would certainly be easier to stay awake if she had something to distract her besides her out of control powers, but she couldn't sit downstairs in front of the TV since her parents would realize she wasn't sleeping, and she couldn't read in the comfort of her bed, since someone would see that her light was left on. All she could do was lie there and think, and think some more, and a little bit after that she'd think again. It didn't help that all she could think about were the nightmares, either.

Melinda could sit in bed for four hours at the most, falling asleep every night just after two, leaving her four hours in which the nightmare from hell could take over her body. Following her abrupt awakening every morning at six, she would have two more hours to calm herself down before she needed to get ready.

This morning, the dream had run late. It was seven-thirty, and the dream had gone over an hour and a half longer than it usually did—which in itself was a nightmare. Instead of just waking up as the man told her she would have to die, she had to see herself ... She had to watch as he killed her.

Melinda shivered and banished the images the memories raised to her head. She rubbed at her arms to regain feeling in them, and looked about the room, feeling as though she wished she'd woken up somewhere else, in someone else's bed, in someone else's arms other than her own. The leader of the female Halliwell line felt as though she wished she'd been in Ipswich, Massachusetts, where a man named Caleb Danvers was right now, and she didn't like that feeling—not one bit.

How was she ever supposed to stay away if all she wanted to do was be there? How was he supposed to survive if she was with him?

_He isn't_, her subconscious insisted. _He isn't supposed to survive_.

Her hands fisted against her temples, tightening with her anger. "He _will_ survive," she insisted, trying to convince herself of something she knew wasn't true.

Making a quick decision, Melinda glanced up at her clock—7:38—and orbed out, praying to any higher power that heard that she could make it there in her frazzled state.

She appeared on the east coast, in Ipswich—Caleb's bedroom, to be exact.

Melinda glanced about his bedroom, frowning when she came up with no sign of the man she was looking for. She left his bedroom, shutting the door behind her as quietly as possible, and checked some of the other bedrooms, just in case. Each came up empty.

She stepped down the stairs lithely, walking on the tips of her toes even though she knew there was no one to wake up—only to spook. She didn't want him to know that she was there ... She only wanted to see him. Just for a minute. Then she'd leave, she promised herself, but not until she saw just a glimpse of him.

When the other rooms continued to be empty, Melinda began to worry. Maybe he wasn't here at all. What if ...

She paused in the doorway to his favorite sitting room, the one he'd remodeled. A pair of socked feet stuck out off the edge of the smaller couch, and soft snores reverberated through the room. A smile crept its way onto Melinda's lips as she peeked over the back of the couch and spotted Caleb. He had stretched out on the couch, still in his work suit, although his tie had been loosened, and he'd fallen asleep. One of his arms drooped off the edge of the couch, and his face was covered by the other. A smile tugged at his mouth, twitching it up on one side.

The brunette leaned over to brush his unruly, thick hair off his forehead, and hovered above the small portion of his face left uncovered by his am. She bent further over to press a kiss to his skin, but froze.

"Melinda?"

She immediately shot straight up into a standing position and turned around, one of her hands pressed over her mouth like she was trying to hide it.

Pru looked over at her, eyebrow raised, hip cocked to the side with a hand resting on it. The front door is wide open behind her, and the sound of a running motorcycle engine can be heard. The blonde watched her expectantly, but Melinda didn't appear to know what to say. Pru sighed. "Min-Min? What are you doing here?"

Melinda swallowed and allowed her hand to drop to her side. Her mouth felt suddenly dry and her tongue chalky. She didn't want to tell her cousin she had come to see her husband, simply so that she could know he was okay so she could stay away longer. If she did tell Pru that, then she'd want to know why, and Melinda couldn't tell her why. She couldn't tell anyone why.

She shrugged and shifted her weight from foot to foot uncomfortably, unable to come up with an appropriate answer.

Pru impatiently sighed again and glanced back over her shoulder, as though she were waiting for someone. "It's nice to see you and all, but you really shouldn't be here, Melinda."

The brunette met her eyes, shocked. "Wh—_what?_ What is that supposed to mean?"

"I just mean that now isn't the time." When Melinda flinched, looking slightly hurt, Pru quickly tried to reiterate. "You should come back later, and we can meet up the park and talk—just you and me."

The older of the pair straightened. "I don't understand, Pru."

A car door slammed out front, and the blonde took it as her cue. She stepped forward and grabbed onto Melinda's shoulders insistently, and looked her straight in the eyes. "Go home, Melinda. If they find out you came here to see him, they'll be really pissed. Just leave, and come back later. I'll call you, alright?" The girl didn't move from her spot, even as Pru inched back to give her space. "Orb out. Now!"

But it was already too late. Reid appeared in the doorway as well, with Christina beside him. His trademark smirk slipped from his lips when he spotted Melinda, to be replaced by an angry glower. "What are _you_ doing here?" he questioned with narrowed eyes.

"Just popping in. I thought I'd see how everyone was," she began.

"Oh, you mean how _Caleb_ was," Reid quipped bitingly. Before Melinda had a chance to make a remark, the blond sneered, "Well he's just _great_, Mel. His wife left him, and he won't come to breakfast anymore; he barely sleeps, and all he does is work. He won't even talk to us! Does that make you happy, Melinda? Is that what you wanted?"

Christina slapped his arm lightly, but enough to get his attention. "Stop being a dick, Reid. It's not her fault, and you know it. Leave her alone." When the blond glanced to her accusingly, she softened her words. "Why don't we take a breather outside? Pogue's out there ..." She grabbed onto his arm and directed him outside, sending Pru a pleading look.

Once they were out of earshot, Pru hissed at her cousin, "See? I told you to leave! You need to get out of here—." She cut off, spotting Melinda's large eyes filled with tears.

"Did I cause that much trouble? Is he really that hurt?" Her chin trembled.

Pru pulled her cousin in for a hug. "Of course not," she whispered, "He's just pouting. You take as much time at Magic School as you need; we're all fine here. We're taking care of Caleb just fine. It's fine. Really."

Melinda looked at him doubtfully, feeling that there had been one too many fines in that sentence than believable, but the man in question was still sound asleep, seemingly unaffected by the harsh exchange of words around him. Pru stepped away from her cousin and took her hand, squeezing it gently. "It's time for you to go home, babe, okay? Promise me you'll call me later, though, right?"

She nodded unconvincingly but disappeared in a flurry of bright orbs.

**.**

Back in San Francisco, Melinda collapsed on her bed, choking out silent sobs. Tears streaked down her face, leaving angry tracks behind them.

If Reid had reacted that badly to seeing her, he must've thought Caleb was acting _awful_. And what if he was?

Was he really not interacting with them at all? Had her leaving damaged him beyond repairing? She had just made a whole new round of mistakes, hadn't she? She sniffled and wiped her nose on her sleeve, a single revelational thought coming to her like a salvation. She could hold onto it, and it would keep her through the time it took to make sure they were safe—to make sure he was safe.

_Better damaged than dead_.

* * *

**AN: **Wow, it's been a while. I have like zilch time to write. Thank you guys for staying with me, though! For those that have left encouraging reviews, thank you! They really help my motivational processes; a whole lot more than you'd think.

I hope you guys keep reading this. I won't abandon it, and I still plan on finishing it ... It just might take longer than expected. There'll only be five or six more chapters after this one, so stay tuned! I'll try to update again soon, if I can.

BTW—who caught the tiny snippet into Christina's head? Why does she only eat aphrodisiacs? _Is _she a Cupid? Who is this mystery woman? Haha, all these questions shall be answered very soon; very soon indeed. :]


	20. Subversive

Subversive

* * *

**.**

Melinda clenched her fists, looking down at them reflexively. "I'm dangerous, Claire," she said, trying to convince her friend. "Please, you've got to help me."

Claire shook her head and stepped away from the girl, looking from side to side as though being seen with Melinda would incriminate her in some act. "No, Mel. I already told ya, and I can't do it. It's not right. Ask your—."

"I can't! She'll say no," the brunette exclaimed, clasping her hands together. "You know how she is ... She thinks everything can be fixed. She'll say it's a drastic, unnecessary measure."

"Well," Claire said, swallowing, "Maybe your momma's right, Melinda, ever think of that?"

Melinda's jaw clenched. She glared at her friend, her eyes blazing as she tried to keep her anger in check. "No, she's wrong," she said, "You and I both know that. Had I come in later this morning, someone could have gotten hurt," Melinda reasoned, referring to how she'd purposefully lost control that morning. No one had been been around, and so no one had gotten hurt, besides herself, some newly damaged desks, and a few scorched walls. "Claire, you've got to help me," she pleaded, looking up at the elder woman with tear-filled eyes.

She wondered curiously if she was laying it on a bit thick, but Claire had slightly turned her face away from Melinda, and she could see her eyes had gotten glossy with tears as well. She continued to spin her false story, lying and manipulating Claire to get her to do what she wanted.

Melinda knew it was wrong, what she was doing, but she had to do it—Claire was her only hope. Neither her mother nor aunts would do what she was asking, even though they knew about her dreams/nightmares, or whatever they were, and she had to have someone to do the spell with her. It was a two-person one, and no one else would help her, even if she asked.

The brunette had resorted to drastic measures, like lying to Claire, because the woman didn't know about her dreams, and only knew that she lacked control. She had everything set up perfectly now, and all Claire had to do was give in.

"Please," she begged, reaching out her hand to grab Claire's and shove the string into her grasp. "You're all I've got, and if I don't get some help, I could really hurt somebody."

Claire didn't say anything for a moment, but just as Melinda began to get anxious, she took the string and grabbed both of her hands. She sighed. "Where's the spell?"

A wave of relief washed over Melinda, and she smiled gratefully. "I'll never ask you for anything again, I swear."

Claire rolled her eyes. "You'll need me to do the reversal spell," she reminded the younger woman.

"Right," Melinda said, somewhat reluctantly. She knew the reversal would have to be done sometime, but it was still difficult to think about it. The only reasons should would put if off were the peace she longed for, the freedom from constantly being stressed, and the time to figure things out. Those were the only reasons, she told herself unconvincingly. It had nothing to do with Caleb.

She handed Claire the small, crumpled sheet of paper she'd shoved into her pocket. Inscribed onto it was the spell she'd copied from the Book of Shadows. Claire took the paper and read the spell over once before putting it into her own pocket and taking Melinda's hands into her own again. She wrapped the string around their clasped hands.

"I take your hands in mine," she recited, "And with this string I will entwine, your powers I'll forever bind, from now until the end of time."

**.**

She woke up with a smile on her face, just like she had every morning—and sometimes in the night—the last few days. It seemed pasted there upon her lips, never to fall from its place. She was just so happy, she could never _not _smile. Everything had been perfect; absolutely, completely, and utterly perfect.

And all she could do ... was smile.

Like right now; a small, sleepy smile quirked her lips as she realized where she was. Heat surrounded her on every side, enveloping her in its arms, holding her tight within its grasp. It was beneath her, to her sides, and above her. She nuzzled her face into the heat below her, and it squirmed slightly, jerking back. She smiled against the heat and did it again, pressing feather light kisses against it as well. It writhed under her, and she giggled when she heard a sleepy moan sound from it.

"Babe," the warmth groaned, "That _tickles_."

Or maybe the warmth was really just Reid.

She laughed and pulled her face back, inching up in his hold until her face was hovering above his own. "I know," she murmured in between pressing open-mouthed kisses against his face. His blue eyes opened below her and blinked up at her angrily, accusing her of disrupting his sleep. She nibbled his nose. "Why else would I do it?"

Reid sighed and mumbled something quietly under his breath, as though she weren't meant to hear it. She heard it anyway. "Damn woman. So needy."

He removed his arms from their place wrapped around her and grabbed her hips, pulling her down until she was level with his mouth again. His lips captured her own until she backed off, looking at him with her bright, mischievous eyes.

She smirked a smirk that could rival his own, one that could tear his up into tiny little pieces, shred it, spit on it, stomp it into the ground, then burn it all down and dance on its grave. "And what do I need?" she asked, voice laced with sarcasm and a huskiness that could only be incurred by _his_ kisses.

"Me," he said simply, grinning.

"Damn right I do," she shot back, stealing his mouth back with her own, fighting him for dominance.

They rolled over and over in the bed, and tangled in the sheets playfully, laughing and kissing until someone knocked on their bedroom door.

She stilled from her movements, pushing Reid away while she waited for the knocker to announce themselves. The blond growled and leaned down against her, lips reclaiming their spot on her neck once more. "Ignore it," he commanded indistinctly.

The knocks came again, and Reid opened his mouth to shout at the person interrupting their private time. "We're a little busy, here! Come back later!"

She covered her mouth with her hand, muffling her laughter. Whoever was on the other side of the door was surely blushing by now.

"Reid, can you stop making out with you're girlfriend long enough to come help me with something?" Tyler bit out from the other side of the door, sounding somewhat frustrated, and probably a little embarrassed, too.

"Can't it wait?" Reid questioned, looking down at his girlfriend longingly. She had reached up to twist a few strands of his hair in one of her hands, the other ruffling the edges of his untrimmed facial hair. She smiled when she caught his look and licked and bit her lips impishly. He frowned down at her, knowing she was teasing him.

Tyler didn't answer for a moment, and Reid thought rather hopefully that his brother had left. However, he had only paused, thinking. "It's Caleb-related," he announced, sounding somewhat defiant and urgent in that altogether pressing, innocent way Tyler had always been able to master and use against his brothers like blackmail.

The blond stiffened at his reply and then groaned, dipping his head into the dip of her neck. "Sorry," he murmured, pressing a kiss against the base of her neck before climbing out of bed.

She grabbed his hand and tugged him back for a moment, kissing him deeply. When she released him, he was sporting a slightly dazed look that she relished in knowing she put there. "Come back?" she asked shamelessly.

"Always." Reid pecked another kiss against her mouth, and took off out of bed quickly before he could change his mind. He exited the room, audaciously sporting his birthday suit, and shut the door behind himself.

Christina sighed and fell back against the sheets, a smile pasted up on her lips, just like it had been for the past few days, as it always was after being near Reid.

She blinked up at the ceiling languidly, a content, relaxed sort of feeling settling around her. Life these past few days had just been _perfect._ Everything was going _perfect_. Reid was _perfect_, even with his quirky flaws and sarcasm and moods and secrets—she loved it all, and it was all _perfect_. Life really couldn't have been going any better, and it had all started with her arrival in Ipswich.

She had been really nervous when she'd first turned up in Ipswich, and her stomach had been turning and twisting like crazy. Christina tried to relax in the only way she knew how—alcohol, i.e. vodka—but it was too early for any bars to be open, and she would've felt stupid ordering some drink in a restaurant in such a tiny town at eleven in the morning. She knew how small towns worked; she would've been the talk of the town by noon if she had gotten that drink. Instead though, she wandered into the least shady liquor store she could find.

That was definitely the best decision she had ever made in her life, looking back on it now.

She'd always had a taste for vodka, so she wandered over to where the clerk had pointed and ended up staring down at the shelves, confused, for quite some time. She hadn't realized it at the time, but she must've zoned out in the middle of the aisle, blocking all the vodka, for at least ten minutes. Possibly more. However long it had been, it was long enough to garner someone's attention.

"Need some help?"

Christina immediately spun on the spot, facing the blond hurriedly. He raised his eyebrows at her rush, and smirked down at her, looking decidedly _on the prowl _as she would later remind him. Her mouth open and closed, but she didn't know what to say. He stepped closer, and she swallowed a lump in her throat, turning back around after theorizing that maybe if she wasn't looking at him, her motor functions would be able to work properly again.

She thought right. Her brain-mouth connection totally started up again as soon as she turned away. "Um, yeah, actually," she said, eyeing the vodka. Even though he'd spoken caustically, probably trying to get her to move out of the way, she took his question seriously. He didn't seem to mind, though, as she felt her side grow warm from where he brushed it after stepping forward beside her.

He chuckled under his breath, and Christina could've sworn her insides had began to hum. "With what?"

Sinking her teeth into her lip, she tried to focus on the task at hand and not their proximity. "Well, I don't—I mean, I didn't ... " She took a deep breath, readying herself for embarrassment, for he was surely going to laugh and mock her once she spoke. "I didn't know there was more than one kind."

"Of vodka?"

He didn't laugh at her. He _didn't_ laugh. She was so elated he didn't seem to think she was an idiot, she almost forgot to nod.

Immediately after receiving her answer, he reached out and plucked a tall, frosted-glass bottle off the shelf before them. He hefted it and grinned wolfishly, his sharp, smooth features cracking at the appearance of some form of a smile. "This is the only kind you need to know about—the only one _worth_ knowing about."

"I'll just have to take your word for it," she laughed, extending her arm to grab it. Before her fingers could grasp it, he jerked his arm back, giving her a weird look.

"What're you doing?" he questioned her incredulously.

"Getting my vodka!" Christina leaned over him to snatch the bottle again, but he held it up high, just out of her reach. She glared at him, and he smirked back at her. "Give me the vodka."

He shook his head, disrupting the bedhead-shag of his moppish blond hair. "No way. If I give it to you, I won't get any. Let me keep it, and we can drink it together."

She narrowed her eyes at him and placed her hands on her hips. "Is this your way of asking me out?"

He grinned rakishly. "Nope. This is my way of letting you know that this is the last bottle and I have no intention of letting it go."

Christina glanced back at the shelves; it was indeed the last bottle of its kind. She frowned. "But I want some."

"Then come with me," he shrugged, like it was an easy answer. It probably had been, in his mind.

"Where?" She shouldn't have asked. She already knew what he was going to say, even before he said it. She already knew what she was going to say back, too.

"To my place," his eyes sparkled mischievously as he spoke, like he'd said it to get a rise out of her.

With raised eyebrows, she looked him up and down, checking him out meticulously. If she was going to be spending the night with him, he had better at least be attractive, she decided. When her eyes met his again, she was pleased to see that he looked a bit shocked at being ogled so blatantly. "Okay," she replied. "Just as long as it's not too far—I still really want some of that vodka."

He had laughed, and then they left. He'd spoken the truth and had taken her to the Garwin manor, exchanging names with her along the way. At home, they got drunk, she laughed at his neat-beyond-obsession closet, he found out the exact places she was ticklish, and the rest was history.

She'd entered Garwin manor on her first day in Ipswich, and then she'd just never left. And somewhere along the way of the bickering, kissing, laughing, kissing, swimming, kissing, and goofing around, she'd fallen in love with him. She had this nagging feeling that he'd fallen in love with her, too, though neither had said anything yet.

Christina sighed softly to herself. "Oh, Reid ..."

Being in love with him was both the best and worst thing that had ever happened to her. It would've simply been the best, had she not known that she wouldn't be able to stay in Ipswich for long. Her time was running out with him, and she felt like it had only just begun. Yet at the same time, she felt it was better to miss being with him than never to have been with him at all, despite the pain and longing the memories of her time with him would no doubt bring.

She buried her face in his pillow, breathing in the smell that was so uniquely _Reid_ while she still could: laundry detergent, the general guy smell all females loved, and the crackling scent of something deeper, something more intense—something she couldn't even name.

The floors outside of the bedroom creaked with retreading footsteps, reminding Christina that this was the only part of the house left over from before the fire. "Reid?" she called out quietly, sitting up in bed when she received no response. "Reid?"

The blonde slipped out of bed and tiptoed to the door, opening it marginally, just enough for her head to peek out. Neither Reid nor Tyler were out in the hall, and there were no clues as to where they had gone. She pulled her head back in and closed the door, quickly retreating to the closet, where she dressed in a set of Reid's meticulously put together nightclothes, since hers weren't really appropriate enough to be seen outside of the bedroom. Truthfully, very few of her things were, but it didn't bother her, and it didn't bother Reid at all. It only bothered Ty, Caleb, Pogue, Melinda, Caleb's mother, and anyone else that happened to appear in her vicinity. Pru thought it was funny, which made Christina happy.

Once fully clothed (and somewhat covered) in a pair of boxers, thick men's socks, and a comfy black hoodie she snagged off one of Reid's hangers, Christina padded out of their bedroom and down two flights of stairs, across the house, and into the kitchen. On her whole trek, she didn't see one person.

She didn't see anybody until about forty minutes later, when she turned around to get some juice from the fridge, and Tyler was leaning against it. He handed her a glass, and she readily sipped from it, savoring the fruity, tangy, sweet flavor.

"Reid's out for a bit," he commented with a shrug, and she didn't ask for all the missing details like she should have. "Wanna go for a drive?"

She smiled over at him and teased in a drawling tone, "Are you asking me out, Baby?"

Tyler winced at the shortened version of the hated nickname his brothers had given him, and she smirked. She absolutely loved calling him Baby, mostly because it bothered him and made Reid laugh. "Maybe," he said, almost defiantly.

" 'Cause if you are," she continued as if he hadn't spoken and stepped up to get in his personal space, tracing a finger down his cheek, "Then I'd have to say that even though I'm a one man kinda gal, I've had my eye on you for a long time."

His head snapped up and he looked at her dumbly, mouth open with his jaw fallen in shock. "_Wh_—what?"

Christina threw her head back with a loud, booming laugh and slugged him in the shoulder playfully. His cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and she muffled her laughter. "I'm sorry, Baby, but you're just too easy."

The brunette just huffed a bit and and grabbed her arm, pulling her along as he rolled his eyes. "Let's go, tease."

"But I don't have any pants on!"

**.**

Five minutes later found the pair in Tyler's abnormally large vehicle, still without pants. They sat in an uncomfortable silence; Tyler didn't address her, simply drumming his fingers on the wheel. As a result, Christina refused to speak back to him, breaking the quiet. She stared out the window absently, mind wandering as her eyes took in the scenery.

A small part of her felt like something was wrong, like something was up—thinking, _No! He knows something! _But that small, tiny, miniscule part was ignored.

However, that didn't mean that she was surprised when he turned the wheel to the side, slowly edging them off the road until the sat on the shoulder between the trees and the pavement. Ty shut the car off and slid his hands into his lap, looking as though he had something to say. His mouth opened and closed repeatedly, as though he were continuously shutting down his thoughts before they could exit his mouth.

She waited semi-patiently for him to speak, as it was his heart's desire to do so.

"I know, Christina."

The blonde glanced up at him when he paused. He looked shocked—probably because she _didn't_—and swallowed abruptly when she raised her eyebrow at him and smirked slightly, hoping that she was correctly playing off that she was more brave than she truly felt. From the look on his face, she was.

"I don't know _everything_," Tyler raised his hand to cut her off when she went to speak, and shook his head. "And I don't _want_ to. All I know is that my brother has finally settled down, and he's happy about it, and it's not with some ... I don't even know. But you're—you're _good_ for him, and I think he's good for you too, maybe, and that's why you're here. It's all I really need to know."

"Okay," she nodded slowly, meeting his eyes once more before looking out the window at the treeline again.

When he didn't immediately start the car, she glanced over at him curiously. He was watching her with—_again_—a startled countenance. Christina rolled her eyes at his dramatics. "Okay? You know that I know you're a—a _Cupid_, whatever that even _means_, and that I don't really care since you make Reid happy and you don't seem dangerous, and all you have to say is _okay?_"

"Yes, Baby. _Okay_," she reiterated. She was thankful he wasn't going to say anything, and curious as to how he found out about her, but she wasn't about to get into it with him and end up revealing any more of her secrets.

"Okay," Tyler mumbled softly, before turning the key in the ignition and whipping the car around. "Okay," he murmured again, on their way back to the Garwin manor.

"Oh, shut up," Christina growled half-heartedly.

He chuckled and pulled up the driveway, his chuckles turning into full-blown laughs when he reached the end and beheld the sight before the large home.

Reid, in all of his pale, thin, lanky, boxer-shorted glory, stood before the house with his hands resting akimbo on his slim, tattooed hips. His dark blue eyes glared at Tyler from the steps, watching his best friend as he slid out of the driver's seat. Christina sidled up to him, still in his clothes, and wrapped her arms around him, resting her head on his shoulder. He didn't move, save to wrap an arm around her waist.

"Baby Boy," he began in a low, angry growl. "Were you trying to kidnap and seduce my _leman__?_"

Tyler's brow shot up, and he began to laugh at the utter ridiculousness of his best friend and the situation. Christina looked up at her blond boyfriend with confusion in her eyes.

Reid sighed, and then said in his ordinary, rich, mocking tone, "Okay, for you uneducated twats out here, leman is another word for mistress."

"Really?" his 'mistress' asked, seemingly alright with the name. "It just sounds like it's French for dude. Y'know, leh-_mahn_," Christina stressed in a very faux, very ridiculous French accent. Tyler was still laughing like an idiot.

"I'll show _you_ what sounds like French!" Reid exclaimed, accompanying the phrase with a pump of his fist into the air.

The pair blinked. The bruntette took the moment to interject, "Reid ... That doesn't make any sense."

"Tais-toi, bon marché _pute__!_" the blond barked angrily. Tyler rolled his eyes and Christina looked momentarily interested. She just so happened to love French, and thought it was extraordinarily attractive, and had had no clue that Reid spoke it. He leaned down to whisper some loud, rapid French into her ear, and in that moment, Ty really wished he hadn't taken French classes with Reid at Spenser. His cheeks turned rosy shades of red and he swallowed nervously, fiddling awkwardly with his hands and muttering about how Reid was such a perverted fool.

Christina threw her head back and laughed before grabbing Reid's shoulders and pulling him in for a sloppy kiss. Tyler rolled his eyes, gagged, and looked away—and not just because of the kiss. "You guys are ..." _Disgusting, gross, freaky, ridiculous ... _"Really made for each other, aren't you?"

Neither replied, as they were both a bit busy.

He curled his nose up, looking for all the world like his adorable nickname, and got back into his car and backed out of the driveway and left.

Reid pulled away as soon as the Hummer couldn't be heard anymore. He smirked down at his mistress, and jeered, "Well, now that he's gone—." He leaned down and picked her up, bridal style, and carried her into the house.

Christina screamed, laughing her head off. "Caveman! Someone save me, a caveman's got me! _Help!_"

The blond carried her into the front living room and dropped her on the couch, watching as she stretched out lithely before crawling on top of her. He began to kiss her, but as she couldn't stop laughing, it didn't work out very well. Eventually he pulled back and just watched her laugh, reveling in her mirth.

Once she calmed down, she stared up at him, a complacent smile on her face. She raised her hand to his face and traced his features, his eyes fluttering closed under her touch. "What did Tyler want?"

A crease appeared between his brows, signaling his confusion though his eyes didn't open. "Hmm?"

"When he came to your room—."

He cut her off before she could finish, correcting her, "_Our_ room."

Christina's smile grew, but she didn't otherwise acknowledge that he'd spoken. She continued, "He said something about Caleb."

Reid's entire body stiffened at the mention of Caleb's name. His eyes shot open, and he stared down at her for a silent minute. When she didn't flinch back, or otherwise move or react at all, he answered, "Yeah ... It's ..." he trailed off uncertainly.

The woman beneath him just blinked up at him, not backing down and not giving him a reason to not answer. She waited for him to respond patiently.

He licked his lips and released a breath, looking away from her and letting his eyes wander. "Tyler said Caleb wasn't answering his phone or replying to his texts, so we went over there to check it out, make sure he was okay ... Evelyn answered the door." He paused and glanced down at her before continuing, "She said Melinda was there."

**.**

Melinda wiped a tear off her cheek as she glared out the window and wrapped her arms around herself, as though she were trying to hold it all in. Her plan had worked—the dizziness, stomach and head aches were all gone, the anxiety caused from all the stress she had built up from attempting to control her powers and failing all the time had gone, and during the short nap she'd taken she hadn't seen Caleb's deadened eyes once—and her powers were bound, but she couldn't help but feeling like it backfired a little bit.

She felt very empty without her powers. She didn't hear the occasional passing thought that someone projected a little too loudly, she could sense or feel anyone in the home, and she wouldn't be able to protect herself form any attacks. The lack of dreams didn't stop her mind from summoning the images of a bloody, beaten and broken Caleb that she'd already had in her head.

The tiny brunette rested her head on the window and closed her eyes, relishing the feeling of the cold against her heated skin. She didn't move from her place or open her eyes when someone entered the sitting room behind her.

"Melinda?" It was her mother. The woman sounded confused as to her presence there—perhaps Claire hadn't let her family know of the events that had gone down just an hour ago, she mused, surprised. "I didn't know anyone was home," the elder Halliwell said, "I thought you were at Magic School for the day after you left this morning."

She shook her head. Melinda had actually thought she was home alone as well, until she had overheard her mother humming to herself rather loudly. Not being able to sense her felt very odd, indeed. "No, I've been home for an hour or so."

"That's probably good. Claire told me that an attendee lost control of her powers," Melinda's fists clenched guiltily, and she tucked her hands into her sides. Piper continued as though she hadn't noticed, "And she had to do a power-binding spell on them. She said it happened pretty early, actually ... Just after you—." She cut herself off abruptly, and they sat in silence for a few beats.

Melinda finally turned away from the window to face her mother and opened her eyes. Her mother looked absolutely horrified, and her eyes were sort of glossy as though rimmed with tears. Her mouth worked to find something to say, but for the moment she just stared at her daughter uncomprehendingly.

"Melinda," she gasped out, as though she couldn't grasp the reasoning behind her actions, as though Melinda were a child or an imbecile or someone that couldn't take care of herself, "Tell me you didn't." When Melinda didn't answer, Piper wrung her hands and fluttered about anxiously. "You didn't. You _didn't_," she kept repeating, still not understanding.

Although she had no powers to hold back, Melinda still had a difficult time controlling the anger that crackled just beneath her surface. Her mother was playing her for an incompetent fool that obviously couldn't make decisions for herself, despite being old enough to save their entire family line through marriage. "I did what I had to—I did what was best for me,"

As though responding to an accusation, Piper immediately replied, "I've always done what's best for you!"

Melinda shook her head back and forth, but didn't audibly deny her mother's words. Tears rolled unbidden down her cheeks. She stood and made her way out of the room, pausing on the threshold. "I think that you did what you _thought_ was best for me," she paused. "But no one can know what's best for me, besides myself."

Piper held her head in her hands as her daughter exited the room.

**.**

"Pogue, we've gotta do _something_," Pru insisted, "My mom said Piper told her that Melinda bound her powers—that's not healthy!"

Pogue paused and pulled away from the engine of the motorcycle, hands covered in grease, to look at his frantic girlfriend. She was pacing the length of his garage, occasionally throwing her hands up in the air emphatically. He didn't quite understand what the big deal was, as she'd already said that the power neutralization wasn't permanent, but played the sympathetic role nonetheless because she seemed so strung out. "Well, what do you think we should do?"

She halted in her movements, stopping just beside him, and ran her fingers through her hair. "I want to go and get her, and then bring her back here," she said, answering immediately as though she'd thought this all through.

"_Here?_" Pogue asked, looking around. "My apartment's not that big, babe." And he was right. It was two-bedroom, but one bedroom was already filled to the brim with movie posters and random junk that he'd collected over the years. While he did own the Parry estate a few miles out of town, he didn't live there, instead choosing to inhabit the apartment he'd owned since his parents' death.

Pru rolled her eyes. "I didn't mean _here_, here. I mean at the Danvers mansion." Pogue's neck snapped back so fast, the blonde was sure he got whiplash. Before he could say anything to protest her idea, she continued, "I know, it sounds a little—_weird_, but I have a good reason!" He raised an eyebrow incredulously. "Seriously, I do. Caleb's all weird 'cause he wants Melinda to be here, and Melinda bound her _powers_, so she's obviously messed in the head; translation: they miss each other, they need each other, let's give them to each other."

Pogue scratched the back of his neck and then wiped his greasy black hands off. Pru took the rag and wiped the back of his neck off. He chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment, thinking, then nodded. "Okay. Let's go."

He stood and Pru pummeled him in a hug. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

**.**

Tyler's truck—if his beast of a Hummer could be called a mere truck at all—stopped at the end of the Garwin's driveway the same time Pogue's motorcycle did. Tyler slid out quickly, watching as Pru hopped off the back and took her helmet off. Her gaze was stuck on the house before them, staring at it suspiciously, though it had to be Christina she was thinking of. Just as he was coming up with a plan to keep her away, Pogue caught his attention.

"Hey, man," he said, nodding his head in greeting. Pru didn't acknowledge him, too focused on the house. "What's up?"

Tyler shrugged, glancing away from Pru to Pogue. "Not much. I was just gonna see if Reid knew why Caleb won't answer his phone."

Pogue's relaxed facial expression visibly stiffened. The younger male noted that he looked almost ... Guilty. He shot him a questioning gaze, and the biker turned even more abashed.

"I think I know why Caleb won't answer his phone," he admitted after some hesitation. His eyes flickered over to his blonde girlfriend before coming back to rest on Tyler, whose haze had turned to a glare. "Pru and I just wanted to help them, I swear!" he rushed to say, hoping to make it all better with a few soothing words.

The brunette's hard glare didn't waver.

Pogue finally said, as quietly and gently possible, "We went and got Melinda and brought her back. To Caleb's place."

Tyler's jaw dropped, and many choice swear words spilled out rather loudly, at an obnoxiously and oddly high pitch. "_What? _What the _hell_, Pogue? Why the fuck would you even do that? How could you be so _stupid_—." His brother cut him off by slapping a hand over his mouth, glancing over at Pru, who had apparently ignored Tyler's freakish outburst.

"Look, man, I told you, it seemed like a good idea at the time," he assured him, as though it made the situation better. Tyler continued to glare at him, but was unable to reply. "Besides, they're probably just talking right now, ever think of that?"

In all honesty, Tyler _had_ thought of that, but had also quickly dismissed the simple notion. He clearly recalled the look on Melinda's face as he drove her to the park so she could orb out privately, and the hug she'd given him before she left. She seemed so sad to leave, and he wanted to know why she was leaving at all if she didn't want to. When he voiced that, she replied, "Because I _have _to, Tyler. It's not a choice of leaving or not."

Obviously, as she'd only come back that one time for a short few minutes, coming back wasn't an option to her either—or at least, that's what he speculated at. And if that was her belief and decision, he was willing to trust her; she'd always seemed very smart to him.

He couldn't _believe _that Pru, her own cousin, had gone against Melinda's decisions, and had dragged Pogue along for the ride. She couldn't be that oblivious to all of her cousin's problems, despite what he believed about her because of the whole Christina thing. But it also occurred to him that maybe Pru thought she was doing what was best for the petite woman ...

His brother finally took his hand away from his mouth, and he took a deep breath. Pogue flinched melodramatically, as though he was going to start yelling again. "Good intentions pave the road to Hell," he stated, quoting the saying his mother had always spouted.

Pogue had the credit to look slightly ashamed, and a little more than anxious. He probably didn't want Reid to find out about he and Pru's idiotic mistake.

"Look," he said, coming up with an idea, "I'll take Reid over to Caleb's, and we'll check on Melinda and him, alright? And you and Pru can get the hell out of here for a few hours." Pogue looked confused. He explained, "We're going to pretend that you never went to get her, that I never saw you here, and let Reid come up with his own assumptions. We don't need him pissed at you on top of all of this."

"Thanks, man," he said, clapping a hand down on Tyler's shoulder. Pogue gave him a grateful grin, before grabbing Pru and getting on the motorcycle. They both waved goodbye and took off.

As soon as they'd disappeared down the end of the driveway, he breathed a sigh of relief, happy to have hit two birds with one stone—Pogue was out of his hair, and he could take Reid to the Danvers' without worrying that Pru was going to do some reconnaissance on Christina and find out what he surely knew already.

He quickly raced inside the house, up two sets of stairs, down the hall and stopped in front of Reid's room. Distinct giggles of two people (he rolled his eyes—he couldn't wait until Pogue and Caleb heard that Reid _giggles_) came through the door, and he cringed, thinking that perhaps he'd let his mind wander too far as to wondering just what they were up to. Tyler knocked on the door, knuckles creating sharp raps that he just knew Reid would ignore.

Some indecipherable mumbling followed, but he had a feeling that he knew what Reid was saying nevertheless. He knocked again, louder and harder and altogether more obnoxiously, knowing it would bother his brother and probably get a reaction out of him.

It worked, just like Tyler knew it would. Reid yelled, "We're a little busy, here! Come back later!" followed by some of Christina's slightly muffled laughter.

His cheeks flushed and he rolled his eyes. "Reid, can you stop making out with you're girlfriend long enough to come help me with something?" Tyler bit out, a little angry that he'd let Reid get to him like that.

"Can't it wait?" Reid questioned, sounding annoyed.

Tyler didn't answer for a moment, pausing to think of how to say what he needed to get Reid out of his bedroom and into the car without revealing too much. "It's Caleb-related," he announced, using the somewhat defiant and urgent tone in that altogether pressing, innocent way that he'd found out could be used against his brothers like blackmail.

Nothing happened for a long minute, but when Reid finally came out, stark naked, he allowed himself to feel slight victory at his apparent ability to steal Reid's attention away from his girlfriend.

"What is it?" the blond asked, crossing his arms across his inked chest.

"Caleb's not answering my calls. I think something's up with him."

**.**

The minute Pru and Pogue had _appeared_ in Melinda's bedroom—without a flurry of lights, a blur, a fading pink heart, or any other sign that he'd used magic at all besides his black eyes—she knew that the pair were up to something, or at the very least that the ever-mischievous blonde had somehow convinced her boyfriend to join her in her misadventures.

They looked innocent enough, of course, but she couldn't help but doubt them.

She'd just kicked Wyatt out of her room. He, along with their stressed mother, did not agree with Melinda's choice to neutralize her powers and had been demanding to see the copy of the spell she'd used to create a counter and reversal. She refused, but they didn't give up. On the other hand, neither her father nor Chris openly disagreed with her decision. Leo seemed to want to stay out of it entirely, as did Aunt Phoebe, but Chris was a whole new matter. He said it was her decision to make, although he found it unsafe.

Henry and Pat were both busy with their charges, but had seemed neutral on the affair. The only reason she'd been able to get rid of Wyatt was for the same reason as the brothers, a charge.

After all the yelling and screaming and fighting the day had brought so far—which was quite a bit for only being awake four hours—Melinda had been looking forward to the peace and quiet of an empty room. The tranquility was sucked out of the room the moment they had shown up.

"Min-Min," Pru greeted in a soft voice that was no doubt meant to be very soothing. She stepped forward and away from Pogue, reaching over to tuck a curl behind Melinda's ear. "You look like crap," she said.

Melinda frowned. "Gee, Pru, thanks. That just gives me the biggest self-confidence boost known to magic."

The blonde rolled her eyes. "You know what I meant. You look exhausted, like you haven't gotten any better sleep since you left." Melinda looked away from her cousin and out the window, where she'd taken to staring quite frequently. "I'm worried about you, Min. All of us," she admitting, hand flicking back to Pogue to include him in the _us_. He didn't make a move, other than to smile faintly.

The petite woman didn't respond, other than to turn slightly away, with her eyes downcast.

Pru grabbed her cousin's hand, gripping it tightly in her own. "What's going on with you?"

"Nothing," she said quickly. "I'm fine."

"Oh, yeah? If you're so fine, why'd you ditch your powers, huh?" Pru asked sarcastically.

Melinda's hands seemed to clench involuntarily as she quelled her anger and searched for a suitable excuse. "I just ... I needed some piece of mind. You know how my powers are."

The blonde looked like she didn't think that was the full story, but didn't push her cousin. "Okay, well, I've talked to our mothers, and we have decided that if you need a break of powers, you need a break from Magic School, from California, and from the family." Melinda looked up at her, confused. "We're bringing you back to Ipswich with us."

She looked up sharply. "_What? _No! I can't go back!"

Pogue stepped forward, arms crossed over his chest, looking for all the world like a bouncer at one of the clubs Pru liked to traffic. "That wasn't a question, Melinda." The woman on the agenda stared at him incredulously.

"You can't be serious, this —."

"No," he said firmly, "We're serious. You and Caleb both miss each other and you're doing a damned job trying to stay apart," he spat, causing Melinda to look away sadly again, her expression distressed. "You're gonna come back with us and get your shit together, alright?"

She scrubbed at her face with her palms frustratedly and shot Pru a helpless glance. The traitorous blonde looked away. She looked back to Pogue, but his face appeared even more impassive than Caleb's got when he was angry.

"I'm not taking no for an answer, Melinda."

Logically, Melinda knew it was a bad idea. A really, really bad idea. Those nightmares weren't fun and games, and she had to be careful and remember that. But emotionally—_God_, Melinda missed Caleb like the moon missed the sun. She _needed_ him, more than anything in the world, and if Pogue was telling the truth, Caleb needed her just as badly. It made her wonder, for just a minute, that if Caleb missed her, that perhaps he hadn't wanted her to leave in the for place.

And maybe, she thought, feeling as though she were jumping to conclusions, if he hadn't wanted her to leave, _maybe_ he had wanted her to stay. For a while. For a long time. For ever.

"Fine," she acquiesced. "But when he gets pissed at you, I'm not the villain, okay? I got dragged into this."

Pru grinned and pulled her into a tight hug, releasing her only so that she could pack her things.

**.**

"Melinda, it doesn't hurt," Pru assured her skeptical cousin, whom was staring at Pogue distrustfully. Pogue didn't help the matter by grinning caustically. Pru slugged him in the side. "Tell her!"

He laughed and turned to Melinda. "It isn't big deal. It's just like teleporting, seriously." She didn't look any more comforted. "I've done it lots of times, and I'm perfectly fine!"

She raised her eyebrows and stared at him, gaze clearly portraying her thoughts on whether or not he was _perfectly fine_. "Why can't we just orb? Or take a plane?"

Pru sighed, getting tired of the conversation. They'd already gone over it enough times, of course, but Melinda didn't trust Pogue and his Power's way of teleporting. Or at least, she seemed not to. "I already told you, we need tickets for a plane and everyone's busy with their own charges. Besides, if you gave up magic, you gave up magic. Let Pogue do his thing, and grow the hell up."

Melinda bit her lip, hand gripping the only bag Pogue hadn't grabbed. After a long moment, she finally nodded and stepped forward to Pru and Pogue. The couple smiled together, and not a moment later, Melinda was squeezing her eyes shut as tight as they could go.

"Melinda?" Pru asked her suddenly, and reflexively, her eyes opened.

The were in the front entrance hall of the Danvers manor. Melinda blinked in surprise. "Already?"

Pogue laughed. "Told you it's not a big deal." He set the bags down on the ground to give her a little noogie, which she neatly dodged by jumping to the side and slamming into something hard.

Everyone went quiet.

Melinda pursed her lips, feeling as though she really, really didn't want to look up and see what she slammed into but simply needing to anyways. She turned her head, craning her neck back, and looked up from the stiff chest she was pressed up against to the broad shoulders it was attached to, which led to a tanned neck and face—all Caleb's. She nearly grimaced at the blank look on his face.

She heard Pogue cough lightly behind her, and Caleb's dark eyes focused on his brother. "Hey, man," he began, but Caleb cut him off.

"What are you doing here?" Caleb asked.

While they were speaking, Melinda realized she was still pressed up against Caleb, and attempted to shift away from him, feeling uncomfortable, but she had failed to notice his arms had wrapped around her waist to steady her when they collided. Her shifting just put her in an even more awkward position, as her struggles had escaped Caleb's attention. Pogue mumbled something back to Caleb behind her, but she couldn't catch it, being too muffled in Caleb's arms.

In the end, she released a breath and gave up, resting her head against his chest and pretending just for the moment that he could be enjoying this as well.

Although she couldn't hear Pogue, Caleb's answer to Pogue didn't go unheard by Melinda. His deep voice rumbled in his chest, against her ears.

"I'm doing fine," he said, almost snapping. "I don't appreciate your interference."

Pogue's response was louder this time. She could hear and understand it perfectly, and felt a little like she was eavesdropping on their conversation. "Grow up, Caleb, and let us help you. Why can't you just admit that you need some help, huh?"

A long moment of silence passed, and it seemed as though Caleb didn't deign his brother's short monologue with a reply.

The biker spoke again, "When you finally get it together, we'll be back. Until then—," he paused, and Melinda had the distinct feeling that he was staring at her. When he spoke again, his mischievous tone nearly confirmed it. "Just _relax_." She could practically hear the smirk in his voice, and flushed at what was surely an innuendo.

The room went silent and Caleb sighed. She craned her neck around to see if the couple were still there, but they had disappeared. She rested her forehead against his chest again, debating internally whether or not he had realized she was still in his arms. "Umm, Caleb," she began, and at the sound of her voice he immediately released her and stepped back, looking almost sheepish.

His face and neck had flushed, and he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "I'm sorry, I hadn't even realized—."

She cut him off, shaking her head. "No, it's fine. Not a problem."

The flush faded from his cheeks as he raised a hand to signal for the staff to take her bags upstairs —to which room, he didn't specify. "I assume you're staying?" he asked, not looking at her as his eyes followed her bags up the stairs and out of sight.

"I guess so," she answered. "Pru and Pogue sort of kidnapped me ..." Melinda trailed off when he looked at her curiously.

"And you just let them?"

She hesitated in answering, and glanced down at her empty hands. "I didn't have much of a choice," she hedged, confused as to how she should answer him. "I—um," Melinda paused again, but he didn't interrupt. Her words wouldn't come out. All she could think about was Caleb, how he would react to what she had to say, and if he would react at all. Would he think less of her? Would he think her weak? She would never know unless she told him. "I bound my powers," she said, then elaborated, seeing as how he probably didn't know what the phrase meant. "I neutralized them so that I could have a break from them ... I'm powerless." She watched his face carefully.

He raised his eyebrows, but had no other visible reaction. Even his eyes didn't betray him, as they had before. "You're human," Caleb stated.

"Pretty much, yeah." She shrugged.

He nodded, thinking, and turned around to walk up the stairs. Melinda followed, not knowing of anything else to do, and he led her straight into his bedroom. He shut the door behind them, and leaned against it, looking down at the floor with his arms crossed over his chest.

She pursed her lips and stuffed her hands in her pockets awkwardly.

It was just the two of them, and she doubted he knew any better than her what to say. Their parting had been so jilted and uncomfortable, her knowing that she _had_ to leave and not knowing if he even wanted her to stay, him not knowing why she wanted to leave other than those terrible excuses ...

_"You aren't coming back."_

_"I will. I'll come back. I'm your wife, aren't I?"_

_"Are you?"_

_"Since you've got me all figured out, Caleb, why don't you tell me?"_

Her eyes closed as she remembered the pain she'd felt; as though he'd rejected her in those simple words. Caleb had probably felt the same, though, Melinda recognized. He was right—no matter how abnormal the circumstances had been, they were still married in the technical sense, and she'd been an awful wife to him. She deserved his anger, she knew. He had a right to be frustrated and upset with her, he even had a right to reject her after all she'd done, though she hoped he wouldn't.

She didn't want him to be cross with her, but the only way he wouldn't be was for her to tell him the one thing she couldn't—why she'd had to leave. It would ruin everything, she knew. Phoebe had assured her it was her decision whether or not to tell him, but she couldn't. It wasn't right.

"Why?" he asked suddenly, his low voice causing her eyes to shoot open.

She easily misinterpreted his question and answered appropriately, using the response she'd recited repeatedly. "I just needed some time to gain control over them. My powers have been on the fritz for a while, and—."

He cut her off. "No, not why you bound your powers. Why you left."

Melinda swallowed, thinking that his question was much harder than she'd originally thought. Fighting her conscience, which was telling her to tell him the _real _reason she'd left, she answered, "Caleb, I told you—I couldn't stay here forever ..."

He worked his jaw and clenched it. "You and I both know that's bull shit, Melinda," he barked, causing her to flinch back. His voice softened as he noticed, "I would've let you stay here for however long."

"_Let _and _want _are two different things, Caleb," she spat angrily, hoping he'd see the difference. She'd seen it all along, and had privately used it as just another reason for her departure.

"Is that what you need to hear, Melinda?" he asked, sounding sarcastic and rude. She didn't answer, instead looking down at her hands again, and he quietly said, "I wanted you to stay here, for as long as you wanted. That didn't turn out to be very long."

She bit her lip, processing the new information. Caleb _had_ wanted her to say, just like she'd suspected, but what did that mean? Melinda wasn't sure she knew. "I wanted to stay here, too," she said, refusing to speak her thoughts.

"Then why didn't you?"

He asked the one question she couldn't answer. She swallowed, saying as much as she could, "I just couldn't." He shot her look, and she explained, "I couldn't stay, Caleb, and I probably shouldn't even be here now. Please don't ask why ... Please, just trust me," she begged, gazing up at him pleadingly.

Caleb stared down at her for a moment, dark eyes looking at her so intently, she felt as though he were seeing right through her. After a moment, he seemed to have found what he'd been looking for, and raised a warm, slightly rough hand to cup her cheek. His other hand gripped her hip, and he leaned down to kiss her.

She responded in kind, wrapping her arms around his neck, pushing all of the things she couldn't say into the kiss. This one was different, she knew, different from the few other kisses they had shared. It was a demanding kiss—the kind of kiss that taught someone about themselves, the kind that completed them.

She pulled away gasping for breath and rested her forehead against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her, wondering just what she'd gotten herself into.

**.**

**

* * *

AN: **If the order of the chapter was confusing to anyone besides me, I'll lay it out for you: each section begins a new segment of time, and the dots signify a change in time; if it was in order, it would go like this—the day would've began with Claire and Melinda doing the binding, then Piper getting pissed at her, then Pogue and Pru going to get her and dropping her off at Caleb's, then Ty going over to Reid's at the same time as Pogue and Pru, which was the same time as Reid and Christina were in bed, then Ty going in to get Reid and then after that Ty getting Christina. Sorry if it's still confusing.

Also, I _finally_ got someone asking me about my usage of blond/blonde (I've been waiting for one of you to point that out for over a year!), and in response, I told them I followed the French rules: blond is masculine, blonde is feminine. Blond refers to Reid, blonde refers to Pru or Christina. I will _never_ use them interchangeably.

Because a very nice person PM'ed me to ask, I though I'd share with the class—if Melinda and Caleb had a song, it'd be one of Florence + The Machine's songs, since they always inspire me to write good Mel/Caleb scenes. Specifically, I'd have to say "Heavy in Your Arms". Even if you're not a fan, you should really check the song out. It's on my TA soundtrack.

To Sam, an anonymous reviewer: thanks! I try :] Pru is not the same person as _Prue_, who was the eldest sister in _Charmed_. Pru is Phoebe's daughter with Cooper, the Cupid, along with Penny. Pru is a telekinetic, like Prue, and that's what I meant by ''conjuring'' in the second chapter. She gets the power from her part Cupid side; all of the powers are listed on Coop's _CharmedWikia_ page. Her only other major power is sensing, but she is a minor empath and has minor self-healing, none of which I've really shown in TA. Thanks again for the review!

And, this is officially on my own brand of hiatus. I've redefined the term to mean that although there will be updates, there will also be long waits in between them. Hope you guys stick with me, though! I'm trying.

Sorry for this ridiculously long author's note. It's _important_, though, and this was also a ridiculously long chapter. Over 10,000 words? _Insane_. TA almost has a higher word count than my thirty-two chapter story.


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